


Name Convenience

by Vehn



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BB truama, BDSM, Cock Ring, Drama, Dream Sex, F/M, Furniture Breaking, Gay Sex, I love Matsuda with my whole heart, I promise <3, ILYSM okay?, Kira philosophy, Kiyomi Takada's chicken cutlet's origin story, L has emotions, L has the guilt but also never wants to be a dad so don't ask, L is horny and he doesn't like it, L is low key king of after care?, L isn't afraid to fuck Matsuda up, L says fuck da Not™️ New World Order™️, L the cake whore, L wants confetti, L watches Misa sleep but not in an Edward Cullen kinda way, Lawlight would be the best power couple if they weren't so fucked, Light is pretty thirsty TBH, Light is salty, Light is very horny, M/M, Masturbation, Mello is 16 and Near is 9 because I said so, Mikami really out here with a master plan and Kiyomi is NOT having it, Misa do be tying to use a shit hole as a rebound tho, Misa has trauma and probs needs therapy, Misa really does say 'bitch u thot', Misa's pop star career really be taking off kinda, Mogi is stressed & didn't ask to be an idol manager when he joined the police but here he is anyways, Sad boi hours, Sexting, Shower Sex, TW: mentions of eating disorder behavior but it's not graphic, Takada will fuck your dad, Wammy's house backstory, Watari is a good dad, Well - Freeform, accidentally implied L x BB, aizawa.exe has left the chat, and I'm not talking about the sprinkles honhonhon, and by the police I mean L, and he is for like two seconds, and u guys kinda seemed like you e x p e c t e d it, blowjobs are better than bandaids Light tested L approved, boys do the fucking, but are we really surprised?, but not TOO salty, death note death, death note fighting, death note testing, does that warrant a tag?, eventually, goddamn it mello, have a snaccc, he thinks he's a top, he wants to fuck ON the death note, high key Near x sad boi hours, i'm not, idk yet, it also doesn't tell you how to do jack shit so don't come here for THAT go drink water, it does now, it's death note fan fic, kiyomi is a killer q u e e n n n n, lawlight, let Matsu read his gossip magazines, low key Mello x Matt, matsuda gets plastered still unsure of the state of his employment tho, matsuda just wants to eat take out and watch the news, matsuda might get fired, matt and Mello be soarin' flyin', mentally anyways, mikami is a POWER SIMP ™️, mirror masturbation sex sorta teasing thing, my sources say I need to tag what kind of sex is going on here, near just wants to send an email, nefarious shower curtain rods, neither does L, phone sex if you squint, porn with plot I promise, post sexy cuddles, sad Misa hours, sad Rem hours, secret sexy time space, secret societies like drugs, sexxxx dreams, she starting to thrive a little post-light, shower masturbation, so they fuck, sorta - Freeform, sorta?, surveillance sex, the ICPO says fuck da police, the task force has bulled L into providing psychiatric care to his interrogation suspects, then L says 'fuck it', then he wishes he could fuck his new boi ooooooooo~, there's not a law that they won't hesitate to break, tw: mentions of drugs, two twinks punching each other over the privilege of writing, watari is always watching and he's not happy with it, wearing your BF who you probs still wanna murder's shirt, what's a death note fan fic without at least a little bitty baby bit of bondage, whoops, yep I guess its THAT kind of fic, yo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 114,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vehn/pseuds/Vehn
Summary: Post Yotsuba Arc where Rem kills Higuchi upon his arrest in fearing for Misa's life, unsure if this was truly apart of Light Yagami's plan and more than certain he would sell her out to save his own skin. With her gone and two death notes under the task force's ownership, this narrative explores the timeline of if L lived past his death in the original canon.It's also super gay, actual plot, the tags really tell you all you need to know, 10/10 recommend I guess?Yeet yeet motherfuckers we writing Death Note fan fiction in 2020, happy apocalypse.
Relationships: Aiber / Kiyomi Takada, Amane Misa/Hideki Ryuuga, Amane Misa/Yagami Light, Beyond Birthday/L, L & Yagami Light, L/Yagami Light, Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl
Comments: 141
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter uno, more of my bad re-write of the canon to be explained later on. That's not important right now, boys being mean and kinda gay are. Thank.

The rest of them had left for the day when L finally asked the stagnant question, “Why are you still here?”

It was a question that Light Yagami had predicted to be delivered to him. He had taken many calculated steps to be where he stood, a cup of hot coffee in hand the other frozen in the act of reaching for his chair. Smiling politely he straightens his posture, the stiffness of his demeanor causing the man curled in the chair to turn his head just enough to observe him. Wide, fisheye lens eyes baring into him, suspicion running high. He is anticipating an offensive response, his assumed induction tangible between them.

Attempting to diffuse the sudden tension Light relaxes his shoulders as he replies, “What do you mean?” he allows a soft breathy laugh, “Is this your weird way of firing me or something?”

The difference in Light’s body language helped ease the rigidity, however the intensity in L’s eyes remains unwavering, “No, I still find you're a valuable asset to our team.”

“Alright, then.” Light resumes pulling out his chair, setting his drink down.

“However…” L adds, “You’ve been released of my constant surveillance, at least the severe levels of observation have been lifted. Light, you do know that you’re free to go home like the others. You can go on dates with Miss Amane, see friends…yet you remain here usually late into the night. Why is that?”

“Well, I’m sure you know that the investigation is at the forefront of my mind. It’s hard to leave.”

“I feel like there’s more to it than that.”

Taking a seat he props his jaw on his knuckles, meeting L’s stare through his lashes, “Of course you would. I know you still suspect me. You’re not great at hiding what’s really on your mind.”

“I am to most.”

“Most people don’t know you, I guess.”

“And you do?”

“Do you think I don’t?”

A thumbnail is thoughtfully pressed between L’s teeth as he sinks further into his seat, it gently croaks.

“Besides…” Light taps a key on his computer, pulling up the numerous spreadsheets and files regarding their case, “…you wouldn’t likely believe me if I told you my true intention.”

Light could feel L’s stare fixating on him, “You do have a particular way of surprising me, Light.”  
  
He smirks glancing at him then back to the computer, forcing his hands to shake ever so slightly, to audibly gulp, any little addition to fully sell the formulated nervousness. It was annoying how many times he had seduced girls, women, but men, L especially, presented to be a more complicated game of seduction. There is a balance to keep of demure composure coupled with the same stance of equality they had established while selling feigned vulnerability at the highest price, “My answer may shock you more than surprise you, but very well." he takes a sip of coffee, mulling his next words, "I’d rather get this over with than draw it out until you get irrationally annoying not to mention petty.”

“Petty.”

“I also don’t think it’s that hard to piece together either.” Light starts scrolling through Higuchi's autopsy photos, “To be honest I had thought that there was enough…hints but considering the circumstance I didn’t want to seem like I was taking advantage of the situation or make you uncomfortable.”

The detective now rendered throughly puzzled yet, his eyes are just barely softening, he is piecing it together. He is dense, not stupid.

“Anyways no use in drawing it out I suppose.” he clicks out of the report to then stare at the keyboard, bracing for what he hopes to be the outcome predicted, “I…trust this will stay between us.”

“We are under constant surveillance, Light. Watari is watching right-”

“I’m aware.” he snaps harsher than intended, but it is apart of the act. The role is of anxious vaguely lovesick Light Yagami, some erratic behavior would be justified but the tone apologized for. Crossing his arms he inhales deeply through his nose letting it out while wetting his lips, “…sorry. I meant to say that I trust this will stay between us. The unspoken ‘us’ so to say.”

L remains silent, painfully still not even chewing away at his own fingers or snacking. 

“I have…feelings for you.” Light admits softly, knowing the mics will pick up every breath he takes, it still felt more private, “For some time I was in denial about it. You and I are complex. Being with you all the time really helped erase any of that denial to some extent. But the separation only aided in intensifying what I was suppressing. There were moments that I did what I could to attempt to just barely convey these emotions however I was still reluctant in not wanting to make you uncomfortable or jeopardize the case.” Despite this being a mostly false confession it is still nerve-racking to speak so vulnerably to a stone cold, aloof man, Light hates so much about him. How he gawks unblinkingly, how he either is piping in too often or is torturously quiet. Light meets that conundrum of an expression balking back at him, genuinely having to find a quick moment to ready his composure only to last minute throw caution to the wind in order to further sell the authenticity of this gamble. There was a time when he was free of the memories of the Death Note that these words might have truly wrecked him to his core to say aloud to this man, “I wouldn’t say I love you, or are in love with you. I don’t think you seem the type to be interested in love, romance or even desire. On the other hand, I am to some degree. I’m more than certain that this will not be reciprocated and that’s more than okay by me. I didn’t want to tell you any of this because I didn't think anything would ever come out of it, but…” he shrugs, “As I said, I doubt you’ll believe me. You’re sure to think this is some ploy for me to eliminate you because you still think…” he catches his own breath, crying would seem too fake, a few held back tears would be appropriate.

“That you’re Kira.” L finishes his voice breathier than normal, sounding as if he was quite literally holding his breath, “Yes, I could see how that would…complicate things for you.”

“Yeah.”

A few wordless moments pass between them to continue onward in a gaping abyss. Surrendering the next move to be left to L, Light carefully tears his stare from the man crouched before him and to the computer again, not working but allowing his eyes to stare elsewhere.  
  
L shifts in his seat unsure of how to approach this development. He would be lying to himself if he outright stated that he has no feelings for Light Yagami, just as the man himself said minute ago, their relationship is complicated and that’s a simplified form of the labyrinth of games the two are used to playing with one another. The Kira Case has by far been his most complex, especially now with the reveal of the killing tool of the culprit to be a mystical notebook not of this world. There were hints of supernatural work at play from the beginning, the broadcasted execution threw L’s suspense of disbelief out the window. He was prepared for there to be a demon, devil or god to be at work. Perhaps even some vengeful spirit out there ravaging humanity, anything was on the table but everything regarding his theories hinged on Light Yagami being in control or being controlled by this incomprehensible evil. Upon meeting him it all continued to add up, coupled with the relief of finally finding someone worthy of easing L’s own irate boredom. He found his culprit and was eager to tear him apart to see for himself how this seemingly perfect college student was capable of mass murder on a global scale. L loathed how Light could press all of the right buttons in him, how he quickly became comfortable with him and in the late hours of the night he’d be staring off into a fabricated world wondering how wonderful his life could’ve been if he met a Light Yagami untouched by Kira.

By some awful turn of fate he got that delivered on a silver platter via Light’s confinement. Through the television screen he saw Kira leave Light’s eyes to leave the potential partner L had never so much as considered fantasizing of until he was there. The recent three months was additionally frustrating initially to gradually transition to a nice period of time glimpsing into that imagined world where Light truly was innocent. Needing to be handcuffed to Light was wholly for investigative purposes but L eased into the comfort of constant companionship. He was running through the best way to propose Light be his associate once The Kira Case was wrapped in the unlikely event that Light wasn't guilty. Even if Light was indeed responsible for the crimes before the Yotsuba killings L had friends in high places, he would possibly rewrite Light’s evidence to allow him to be free so long as the place he’d be released to was as L’s partner for crime-solving. Surely the good deeds they could accomplish together would be some form of repentance for what he did. Besides, if Kira was gone from him leaving the man L yearned for, he would have no consistent memory that could hold up in trial. Light had more than proven himself L’s equal, having another mind was a privilege that L was willing to bend the rules for, or at the very least try. The fantasy plan shattered beside him the night of Higuchi’s capture.

Intuition demanded that L do all in his power to not allow Light to touch the killing tool, but he was intensely distracted by viewing a god of death to not shove an overly eager Light off. There was a multitude of distractions that led to the killer notebook to wind up in Light's hands. Almost immediately something unleashed an inhuman siren of agony, pain and most chillingly, glee as his eyes glazed over, features possessed by that ominous force called Kira. His bright eyes darkened as he held the notebook like it were apart of him. The person L had found himself beginning to possibly fall for was gone, Kira left in control of the vessel.

Shortly after, the Kira at the time, Higuchi, fell dead and the shinigami dissolved to ashen dust. Only a week had passed since leaving the world and the case at a standstill until the killings began again. The task force felt like a childish group of amateurs as they bickered amongst themselves going back and forth on should they tell the ICPO about the notebook, should they test it, who were any of them to try a hand at being god? Higuchi was killed by the shinigami without explanation, none of them knowing whether the being vanished or perished. L was about to announce their findings to the ICPO until the killings began again. They were of the same pattern as the first Kira and despite Light and Misa under near constant surveillance showing no possible way of them having time or the ability to kill, yet deep in L’s being he knew Light Yagami was somehow behind it all. All of his movements were perfectly predicted, wound together flawlessly to achieve anything he desired every breath having some justifiable cause to have the means. These facts considered, L opted for secrecy of the notebook, it is extremely powerful and the idea of world leaders knowing of it did not seem to be in any of their best interest if this case was to be solved. He knew there were more notebooks, the fact that they now had two in their possession was proof. What he was waiting patiently for was for Light Yagami to make his first decisive move as Kira.

But a love confession was entirely out of the list of possibilities L had solved, ready to act upon at any time.

All his mind could spit out are a few theories all circulating around L being seduced by Light, that in itself a long shot. Perhaps he wishes for L to fall for him to be manipulated emotionally as he theorizes Misa has been. However, even Light should know better than that after all pursuing a romantic or even sexual relationship isn't quite the game Kira Light Yagami plays. It would be too high risk, too direct. This would also easily pin the blame on Light in the event L died or had his life threatened. Another option could be getting intimate enough to know L’s name, but even with the few people close to him none of them know his name much less a lover. Outright he cannot see what could be gained, whatever it may be, this certainly poses an interesting game.

“Light.” L evaluates the threads of jean crumpled on his kneecaps, “I am flattered, but I do not think this sort of relationship appropriate given the gravity of the situation.”

“I understand.”

“I am also much more interested in your girlfriend than I am you.” The bewildered downright offended expression was worth the lie, although intelligence aside, Misa Amane is quite beautiful and is at the very least, entertainment to some extent for L.

“I was only kidding.”

Light huffs indignantly, hitting his keyboard a bit harder than needed. Damn him.

“Anyways even if we were to do something as…stupid as attempt a relationship I couldn’t possibly give you what you want or what is expected of you. I travel too often for a good stable relationship to grow. I have a high risk job. I’m not interested in settling down. I am not romantic. I am not emotionally mature so to speak. And my sexual tastes are rather…odd. Especially to a college student of all people. Not to say your search history isn’t too far off…”

“You went through my browser history?”  
  
L shrugs.

"When?!"  
  
“Not relevant. Point being, it would’t work out. I also do not buy that someone like you would ever be interested in me without a motive.”  
  
“Why?” Light’s fingers curl into fists, “Because I’m Kira?! Because I can’t have interest in you outside of wanting to theoretically kill you?!” he lets out an awful pained laugh, “A relationship with you would be fucking insane! Forget I said anything.”

Impossibly large eyes widen as a faint smile toys L’s lips. That was a little too genuine, then again it’s unlikely that anyone has refused a romantic advancement from Light. He could be lashing out because he didn’t get what he wanted. “Insane? You think I’m insane?”

“I know you’re insane. I was unable to leave your side for three months, I had to deal with your worst habits, your best habits. I…” he shakes his head fighting the urge to slam his fist into the cretin’s face, “…let’s just stop discussing this. I get it, you’re not interested.”

“I haven’t explicitly stated a lack of interest, more so of reasons as to why I am flawed, this isn’t entirely about your adequacy. Did you think I’d swoon into your arms because you were the one to say empty nothings to me?”

That struck a nerve causing him to stand upright, slamming his palms into the desktop. His tongue runs across his bottom lip as a muscle in his face protrudes from subtly grinding his teeth while glowering at the plastic coated wood under his hands. None of this was a calculated reaction. He expected denial then to enjoy working for L's submission. The plan was a decent idea at first, albeit entertaining at the very least, but not worth the vague emotional abuse already being slung. They didn't even talk to each other like this in the most intimate moments shared in chains.

Regaining some semblance of his composure Light turns to face the antagonizing, subtly shit-eating gaze peering up at him, “Why are you attacking me? Are you offended? Full offense intended, you seem pretty not-straight my sincerest apologies if I misread all of your subtext.”

“I was not giving-”

“No straight man does even _half_ of the things you do.”

“I don’t use five hair products in the morning.”

“Plenty of-”

“The gay men I know do, yes. You included.”

“Fine, you’re not into men. That’s all you had to say.”

“I never said that. I just implying I wasn’t into you.”

“I think you’re lying, L.”

“It’s Ryuzaki.”

“Same thing.”

This was a risky change of plan but, may as well go all in when he had this time to be completely alone with the other. Light steps closer to grip the back of L’s chair, pulling him as close as the seating allows. Leaning in he can smell the mixture of the detective’s shampoo, the light odor of detergent, that sharp designer cologne he must’ve been given as a gift or by Watari, Light could never buy that L would seek out luxury goods. He could count the very small dusting of freckles under L’s screen bleached skin and count the veins under his heavily lidded eyes. The man’s breath smelt revolting, like the array of sweets he had that day coupled with stale tea. Those rude lips barely part to show caffeine stained teeth peering behind a surprisingly precise, full, pink mouth. L's hands fly from his kneecaps to the arms of his chair, body coiling and ready to strike if needed. Getting closer could earn Light a kick to the gut, a calculated risk he's willing to make. After all, the great, enigmatic, indomitable L had allowed him this proximity.

Leaning in as if about to kiss him he whispers, “If you truly didn’t feel anything for me, if my emotional rambling meant nothing to you…” he speaks against L’s lips now, was this technically kissing? He didn’t care, he did like it though. It is thrilling to watch a powerful man freeze like countless women have between Light’s hands. “If it did you would just let it be. I know you, L.” he says the man’s assumed name as if it were an insult, “You don’t invest your time into things that you don’t get something out of. And you’re not cruel enough to be this rude to me, even if I were the culprit I’m not.”

L wasn’t breathing, Light enjoys that. He reaches to pinch that pointed chin between his fingers, “And if I was….I think that would thrill you to no end.”

“What makes you think something that perverted?” L hisses above a whisper, voice smooth.

He grins against the other’s lips, a large part of him begged himself to kiss L already. Certainly he thought of it too often when he was without his memories, as if another person is inside him imaginary pleas rip through his being in tattered supplication to his own will to cave into the months of pent up desire. If it made sense to the plan, he would have L right there, not caring if Watari were watching, if the task force were to suddenly intrude and certainly not if Misa pranced her way into the scene, however messy and disgusting it surely would be. It’s revolting to have such human cravings if he is to become god these inclinations must be eradicated, what better way to purge them than in this perverse stratagem? “Because…” he murmurs, moving his fingers to stroke L’s jawline with his index finger, “…theoretically speaking, I would find it ridiculously hard to not be drawn into the eroticism of polar opposites clashing together, satisfying some…” he shifts his mouth from L’s to the other’s ear, “…deeply unspoken need for one another.”

Beneath Light’s hold the chair shivers, “There is no…unspoken…”

“And you call me a liar.” he growls, abruptly pulling away standing as if nothing had occurred between them, the only giveaway being the apparent disarray of L’s entire being.  
Surveying the masterpiece of his enemy completely disheveled without being touched, Light checks his watch casually, “It’s late. I’ll leave you be. It seems my being here has been an annoyance to you, we can avoid further uncomfortable conversation next time by you simply asking me to leave.”

“I wasn’t asking you to leave.” L crawls out of his seat, even with his awful posture they are roughly the same size, “But if you wish to…I won’t stop you.”

“Do you wish me to?” a smile spreads, it hurts L to see. If it weren’t for those cold eyes this was almost like the Light he longed for, how cruel it is that Kira wears his face, walks in his body. This must be karma of the worst kind.

“I don’t mind the company. So long as my…rude response to your explanation hasn’t left you thinking less of me.”

Light laughs, “So you were lying.”

“Not at all. I’m not good for you.”

“And you think I’m good for you?”

Point well made. A finger probes L’s mouth, “I think we are an oxymoron, quite ironic given the intelligence between us.”

“I don’t mind just being physical with you.” he didn’t mean to say that however earning a brief genuine smile from the other is well worth the humiliation.

“I don’t think I’m good for you physically either, Light.”

“It might help you sleep.”

Even rarer, a laugh momentarily bursts from L only to be immediately capped, “Ah, well…it does seem like you do know me more than I’d like to admit.” he strokes his lower lip with two fingers, “It’s still unwise.”

“Suit yourself.” bending down he pulls his bag to the countertop to pack his few items inside, “That said, I should go. I hope nothing that happened tonight will complicate things for the investigation.”

"Of course not. It isn't the first time a situation like this has transpired." Light's brow rises as his imagination rushes to paint the picture of who would be so bold or so chanced to disclose these sorts of desires to L other than himself.

"It was a long time ago, it isn't important.”

“Obviously.” he slips on his jacket doing the bottom few buttons as he speaks, "After this evening, it would be hard to imagine emotions being of any importance to you."

"They are very important to me, Light. Unlike you, mine are genuine, therefore rendering them extremely dangerous."

Excellent.

“Interesting.” He smiles, a good way to channel the swelling sense of victory, betting this little slip of information to be sincere, “I have classes tomorrow, I'll be here to help after lecture lets out out."

L nods as Light passes by him, heading for the stairs leading out of the main cavelike inhabitance of the task force. His eyes soak up the strong lines of the other's body, how well his perfectly fitting clothes drape. Most of the overhead lighting was turned off save for the wall of computer screens and occasional lamp. It cast a beautiful contrasting spectacle of cool and warm tones across the other's form, mechanically moving as if underwater, like each step is buying L time to go back on his word regarding those offers. It is almost as if he could hear the timer clicking down in Light's head collections the exact amount of seconds it would take for L to get in one last quip, or nonchalantly invite Light to indulge in finishing the tension started. No, not tonight, there were too many variables to analyze before moving forward. He settles on memorizing how those leather clad feet dully clack on the floor, echoing importance instead of innocence. Everything about this man is different, even how his hands relax as he moves, nothing about him is believable, not when compared to the real Light Yagami. Turning from the ricocheting tempo of the other's exit, L plays with his lips between his fingers, wondering what Light's lips would feel like pressed against them. Would that kiss be soft, or rough with hatred?  
  
Light left his coffee unfinished, something scarely done. Normally he would bus it to the little cart Watari often left. It sits there a small, fragile little reminder of what transpired. Reaching out to it, L hooks a finger on the handle, raising it to his mouth. Taking a long drink he closes his eyes, curious as to if they did finish that kiss who would be delivering it, Kira or Light? For now he would contemplate Kira's new proposal for another layer to their complicated high risk tournament. On one hand, it held a high probability of success thus closing this case for once and for all. However, if he did decide the venture into these tactile waters this could certainly be the last game for the great detective. He muses at the thought, as if he had any other choice but indulgence. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IDK what happened this chapter was supposed to happen in like 3-4ish but here we are.
> 
> Chapter notes at the end because my ranting might spoil it.

Over the years Watari has been a watcher, creator and caregiver. Before those titles he was a mentor who over time grew into the additional roles. Since L’s full inheritance into the accidental self-made legend, the part of guardian faded away to representative. From L's young age, Watari surprised himself in how attached to the bizarre child he became. Eventually the attachment resulted in adopting the once nameless orphan. Mostly this choice was due to convenience of L’s veracious appetite for borderline illegal online wanderings into criminal case files. Not only this but the child had a baffling aptitude for the stock market, multiplying Watari's own investments twenty fold in a short amount of time it almost seemed criminal. Having such a wild and enigmatic child, adopting him made cleaning up L's early messes easier as far as legalities were concerned. Watari would be up at odd hours explaining and apologizing to government organizations, department heads and world leaders about the suspicious 'L' ,who would leave apparently random emails in a multitude of investigations' inboxes concisely solving crimes supposedly unknown to the public, much less a seven year old.  
  
During their years together it is rare for Watari to do more than fetch whatever whim L had demanded of him, however, watching Light Yagami display a newfound interest in the detective sent alarms off within the old man. While his marriage had been sweet, innocent leaving the gentle memories lulling him to sleep more often than he'd admit, Watari had watched a multitude of toxic relationships simmer to only boil over. The conversation he overheard is a field of crimson flags. At the end of the day L would do as he pleases, be it the result of his death or not Watari could not tell for certain at this time. Irregardless of the situation that would come from the venomous seeds already planted by Light, the least he owed his pseudo son was words of advice. Arranging tonight’s array of petite cakes, Watari finishes the presentation of the paired tea finally pushing the cart into the empty chamber where L still crouches illuminated by screens.  
  
Stopping beside him, Watari diligently unloads the trolly, a bit startled that L is the first to speak, “You don’t have to tell me, Watari.” his voice is delicate, cool, “I stake my life on each case that requires it, this is no different.”  
  
“It’s very different.” a lineup of miniature, extravagant desserts is presented before him, a small glass tray is next holding sleeping pills, vitamin supplements as well as other missing nutrients not found in the man's preferred diet, “Emotions are extremely dangerous, you said so yourself.”  
  
“These aren’t going to be real ones.” spindly fingers pluck the nearest treat, pauses coupled with intermittent smacking accompanies the next string of words, “I can turn them off if I want. It’s…a moronic tactic to say in the least. From what I can tell this is the highest chance of success.”  
  
Pouring the tea a cup and saucer shortly appear at L’s side, “It may appear to be that easy…but you cannot always control your emotions.”  
  
“Absolutely.” he gulps down another cake, “However, I can control how I respond to them.”  
  
“Point well made, sir.”  
  
“I ask you monitor the situation. If I die then the case is closed, I see no better proof of his guilt than my own corpse if all goes according to plan.”  
  
“You plan to die?”  
  
“No.” he swallows down the pills, grimacing at the sensation, “But, I plan to get to a certain stage of the plan should it be the one I imagine Kira has already started to set the board for. And if that comes to fruition then there is only room for surprises and my potential demise. Should I die by that point then Kira will have revealed himself inside Light Yagami.”  
  
“I’m not quite sure I follow.”  
  
A gruesome expression darkens L’s expressions as he toys with the third small dessert on the tray, “…I think his goal is to get my name by intimate means. How intimate he wishes to go is entirely up for the playing of the game to decide. I predict he will go great lengths as will I. We know how Kira kills, two of the weapons are here…however I need proof that they work and the task force isn’t giving me that variable to work with. All I have as solid proof is Higuchi’s death and the shiningami’s writing to prove it. I need Kira himself to use that power before me in order to wrap up this case.”  
  
“You think Light Yagami will kill in front of you? In front of cameras?”  
  
“I think so, yes.” ,muted excitement swirls in massive eyes, “Be sure every place I go is surveyed so covertly not even the best experts could find the cameras and mics. I need every moment documented, every angle possible. If I’m allowing this much of…myself be used for this case to get the justice deserved I will not allow the smallest opportunity for Kira to slip away, there will be no cracks available for him to escape or manipulate.”  
  
“Understood. I’ll work on the technology required of such an extensive investigation.”  
  
“Thank you, Watari.”  
  
—-  
  
There are times when one is forced to weigh the long game versus the short game. Perhaps there is a longterm goal set that can only be achieved through patient waiting paired with tedious manipulations, but there are immediate problems or victories that appear to not quite hinder the goal determined but inconvenience it. In these times one must posses or at minimum build up the endurance to withstand the worst tasks. Those theoretical tasks could result in detrimental outcomes from extensive torment. They could distract from the original ideology. They could threaten the integrity of the entire operation.  
  
They are a ninety pound pop star rambling at a million words per minute in an expensive cafe late at night. They are her meticulously painted red lips, her perfectly fluffed blond hair, expertly placed false lashes. She is Misa Amane and she is the worst adversary Light Yagami has been given throughout his journey to a new world. Yes, she's had her usefulness but, only out of her bare minimum to be able to follow generic orders.  
  
“I still cannot believe Mari had the balls to try to talk to me after my own concert like that.” she twirls one of her pigtails to dramatically toss it past her ear, “Like okay, I get it, you two had what, one traumatic date in high school I guess, but you and I have been dating for like…a year? I’ve announced it in interviews even though my manager said not to.” she rolls her eyes holding up her hands to mimic her actual manager, not her posed one, Mogi, “‘Misa, you know that idols are more profitable and desired after if they are seen as single. I don’t care if you do have a boyfriend, but at least pretend to fuel the imaginations of your fans.’ Ugh! Can you believe that? I don’t want any of my fans as my boyfriend, like yeah, there are some cute ones, and like, Hideki was definitely trying to come onto me during that film shoot, honestly thank god to Matsu for having to fake die, like, I was able to pretend being upset to avoid him always asking me out for drinks.”

The word ‘drink’ reminds her that she is thirsty.  
  
Light savors the silence then braces for auditory impact as she inhales to resume, “Anyways since mentioning you more in interviews that’s made some of your exes mega jealous. Mari went through the trouble of buying a meet and greet pass to what? Tell me off? No! To say that you were still texting her and showed me this obviously fake receipt.” she laughs, “She had someone else text her on her phone and saved their contact as you, I asked to see the contact info and sure enough a fake! I’m not stupid.”  
  
She re-crosses her legs, adjusting her obnoxiously loud faux leather skirt, “I pointed that out to her, she got mad, duh. But what did she expect? I don’t have time for liars. The greatest thing was that she still posed for the greet picture and got my autograph.” Misa leans forward giggling, clasping Light’s hand on the tabletop, “I signed her phone! How funny is that?!”  
  
Sliding his hand away from hers he uses it to prop his face, staring at her for a moment, analyzing the best method of action. There wouldn’t be an easy way to go about this with her but he is running low on time given how things with L went that evening. The window without even tighter hidden observation would be limited. Luck was once again on his side when he came across some files on a shared drive while working. In total honesty, Light wasn't so bold as to research the possibly of L conducting secret observation over him or Misa. Had he considered it? Absolutely, but figured it would be in his best interest to not be so obvious as go through confidential files, with L less than a few feet away at that. He saw how extensive and discreet L’s surveillance of Misa is in the files. Not only is he unsatisfied with Mogi at her side but he's gone through the trouble of hiring a small network of additional help in the form of hired paparazzi. That network tripled since Higuchi's death. There was more to see but he was caught fairly quickly catching immediate snarky accusations. Stroking L's ego certainly lessened the severity of his chastising of snooping. Watari's crisp intervention of correcting the mistake of not knowing that L didn't want Light to see the documents not only settled a brewing fistfight but further restricted Light's already limited access.   
  
Switching on the suave, ideal boyfriend Light Yagami, he relaxes into his seat gifting her a small smile.  
  
As expected she blushes inching forward, “What’s with that smile, Light?” her small fingers waggle across the table trying to grope him, “Want to cuddle or something?”  
  
“In the cafe booth?” he scoffs, careful to use a playful tone to hide his constant annoyance.  
  
“Why not?” Misa’s feet impatiently kick at the air under the table, the tips of her heeled boots testing Light’s shins, “It’d be cute! Plus it’s a little chilly and who cares if any paparazzi see, the fanboys can deal!”  
  
Having her closer to him would be easier to keep her in check for what he has to say. Perhaps taking her home would be simplest. If he’s at her house there’s the added pressure of them becoming physical and Light wasn’t ready to have the faintest feel of L’s lips gone from his. Additionally, if she did blow up as he expected maybe a documentation of their potential breakup wouldn’t be bad. Surely L's planted photographer would promptly send notice.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He moves closer to the window, opening space for her which she immediately flew into with a squealed, “Yay!”  
  
Her shampoo doesn’t smell pleasant it is nauseating, like teenage berry scent perfume bought as an afterthought at the register. The perfume she wears is also too fruity, not the clean direct notes of laundry mingled with expensive cologne...   
  
_‘Stop._ ’ he scolds himself, _‘Its preferable to be somewhat attracted to L, but don't’ think about him like that unless you’re trying to get something from him.’_  
  
Misa nestles closer to wrap her arms around his torso sighing into him, their bodies awkwardly melding together. She mutters something about adoring him while he wonders if L would be this affectionate. What sort of partner would L be? Would he openly touch Light like this? Would he want to?  
  
 _‘Why do I even care?!’_

Mentally, he forces any and all thoughts other than the job at hand abruptly out of his mind. As much as he hates to, he has to focus on the meticulous girl beside him. A few fingers absentmindedly stroke her hair, toying with her earring, “Misa…you know I love you.”  
  
“Yes.” she breathes, glassy eyes beaming at him, “I love you so much, Light. More than anything.” her face buries into his chest, he wishes to push her off, it's difficult to clean her makeup off his clothes when she does that, “I’m so happy to have you to myself again…gross, yucky L…freak and his handcuffs.”  
  
A smile involuntarily pulls at his mouth, “Yeah.”  
  
“That’s a human right misdemeanor you know. It’s illegal to do that.”  
  
“I consented…to some degree.”  
  
Misa hums in disgust.  
  
“Let’s not talk about that. I wanted to talk about us, Misa.”  
  
Her expression shines too brightly as she bolts upright, “Us?!”  
  
He guides her back against him, people were eyeing them, their expressions betrays their speculation of a cute cafe proposal.  
  
Cupping her chin he thumbs her cheek, hating how caked it feels, L’s was… _‘Stop it.’_  
  
“Yes, you and I have something unique, Misa. And you know how proud I am of you…” he goes back to delicately stroking her hair, “…proud of what you’ve done for me.”  
  
“I’m so glad.” she sniffs, “I just want us to be happy together.”  
  
“As do I…but…” he lowers his hand to her shoulder, “That’s hard to do with all of the people around us. I think that it might be in our best interest to part ways for now so I can eliminate all complications in order for us to truly be together.”  
  
Her eyes widen, “What? What are you saying? Are you…breaking up with me?”  
  
“For now, yes.” he admits, averting his gaze, forcing his face to redden as if fighting emotions, “I’ve thought it over and this is what’s best.”  
  
“No!” she instantly is almost in tears, manicured nails digging into his bicep, “Light! Anything is better than us apart!”  
  
“Misa.” he grips her hand a bit tighter then intended but he absolutely despises how skin crawling her cuticles feel through his clothes, “I think we need space. We’ve been through a lot. You have an important job to do, so many people are counting on you and with my involvement with the case it’s hard for me to properly be with you.”  
  
“It’s fine.” she simpers, “I’m fine with it. I like any time I have with you…even if it’s a small amount…”  
  
“It’s unfair. I’m sorry.”  
  
He envelopes her into a tight hug, eyeing the photographer snapping lots of photos.  
  
 _'Good, go on, send those right to L.'  
  
_ What disposable, cheap human bugs happy to sell even cheaper in-person monitoring. They're so easy to spot out its comical. Those kinds of people would have no place in Kira's future.  
  
Burying his face to where her hair hides his mouth he quickly whispers against her ear, “This is only temporary. I need to make this is realistic as possible for us, Misa. Act mad at me, do what you must to make is convincing, one of L’s people is watching. Keep the note safe, you follow T’s orders. Communicate with me via texts and calls trying to get back with me only if he asks you to. Do not do anything risky outside of tonight. This is for our new world, Misa. For _us_.” he leaves the protection of her locks, caressing her face with both hands, “I love you, Misa, believe me.”  
  
“I do believe you.” ,her body trembles terribly, “Light…what can I do to make you stay…please.”  
  
“There’s nothing, this is something I have to figure out myself.”  
  
“What do you have to figure out? Your work? That doesn’t make sen-”  
  
This would gain the performance satisfactory of L’s hidden, watching gaze.  
  
“Me! I have to figure out me and what I want,” he moves away from her, “There’s someone else I have found myself having feelings for.”  
  
“Who?” she demands, “Mari? Kiyomi?”  
  
“…you just recently called him a freak.”  
  
Her expression matches that if she were instantaneously electrocuted. Light is truthfully astonished at how quickly she pieces it together, “Him?” she sneers, authentically revolted at the mere thought of her Light with another man much less that scraggly, perverted, weirdo, “ _Him?_!”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I had a feeling that he had some infatuation with you, the dumb case aside.” Misa grumbles, Light wonders how much of this is an act or her honest opinion, “Is he what you want?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“I know I want you! Isn't that enough? What is it?! How he sits? Eats? Do I not eat enough for you?!”  
  
“N-no.”  
  
“The eye bags?! I can do that, it’ll be a choice, but I can do that!”  
  
“Misa.”  
  
“My natural hair color is black, you know!”  
  
“Enough. This is why I need space, to focus on the case-”  
  
“You just want to focus on Ryuzaki!”  
  
She was doing too good of a job at this. People begin to stare, some whisper.  
  
Her hands fly up, voice screeching a few octaves lower as if trying to keep the statement private, “Do I need to get a strap on? I’ll peg you.”  
  
“ _Misa!_ ” his hand flies to cover her mouth, “Not in public.” he leans closer, “ _You’re taking it too far now._ ”  
  
She shoves him off, “Whatever.”  
  
Hastily she gathers her purse from the other side of the booth, “Fine. I’m not going to make myself a complete fool.” she wipes at her face, “I’d rather lose you to anyone else, Light.”  
  
Standing, he tries to reach for her again but is stopped by her shielding herself by putting her hands up, “Don’t touch me!”  
  
A pathetic sob rips from her, some onlookers stand up ready to defend her, “I can’t handle you touching me…”  
  
The watchers cautiously return to their seats, eyes glued to the scene.   
  
“I understand.” Light steps away to avoid confrontation from an unwanted intervention.   
  
“I’m not giving up on you.” she hiccups, “You said this was ju-just until y-you fig-figure it out.”  
  
“In theory.”  
  
Sadly lowering her glare to the floor she raggedly sighs, “I love you, Light.”  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
“…goodbye.”  
  
“Goodbye.”  
  
—-  
  
Sleep tonight will be impossible.  
  
All he can think of is scheme after scheme plotting how to best seduce L without his previous emotions possibly intruding on the terminal purpose at hand. His mind clashes with formulas of how to convincingly win L over while replaying being so close to him, feeling him. His body craves more than that interaction. He muses what those lips would taste like, would he kiss with any emotion or cold and calculating? Personally he theorizes that seemingly uninterested man would be wild in the bedroom. Botched memories of their time chained together return.  
  
Only twice did he catch L asleep, once in a chair tipped horizontally on the floor, the second him lying on his back on the bed claiming a need to stretch but shortly succumbed to sleep for an entire nineteen hours. Then he was truly Light Yagami, sweet and weak, once horridly bored but that doldrum was satisfied by Higuchi playing as a sad shell of the title Kira.

Boredom ceases to exist around L. Something about the wiry man started to sway his mind to odd places. Truth be told women never did it for him, they were just there, way too eager. A few of his male friends had made some joking advancements out of feigned curiosity in the past and those handful of 'just for fun' kisses, an accidental hand job and a blow job that was 'only to see why girls liked it so much' did more for him than any girl could offer. For some reason the world gave him L, physically the man was not to Light's tastes outright but that was quickly overlooked for the incredible brain underneath the cryptic casing.   
  
Gazing on L's sleeping form felt wrong, as if an alien had collapsed on their shared bed. His arms were contorted, one across his stomach the other above his head, limp legs dangled over the bed's edge. Dark locks had fallen partially to the side showing a decent portion of a pearly white forehead and barely visible black brows, which reminded Light of his bet with Matsuda regarding the legitimacy of L having any. Light was right. Initially he took the photo as a way to prove his point, but now alone in his bed, he curses Watari for taking it from him for it classified as 'propriety information.' Somehow he had cohered Watari into allowing him to show it to Matsuda before its deletion, earning him five thousand yen. 

Eyebrows aside, he had savored the sight of an intense person looking so peaceful. His lips were relaxed in slumber gently parted, the angle his head rested was particularly favorable to display his impossibly sharp jawline, a deep face carved from malnutrition. Those lines led down to a marbled neck also deprived of much to fill in the tendons protruding from perfect skin. Something inside him stirred. Light wasn't entirely surprised to find that he was inclined to kiss him, but settled to brush his hair from his eyes, pleasantly stunned at the softness. L moved in his sleep, shifting to his side curling into himself morphing into someone very small, vulnerable. That Light wanted to protect that person at all costs, despite the massive headache he often gave him. Negating the perversions pushing into his thoughts he opted for draping the folded bedding under the detective across his resting form. 

Now he indulges into the aberrant dreams of a past Light Yagami, rewriting that face to an L lying on a bed or couch the peaceful expression painted as disgruntled, aggravated and wanting. His eyes would flash with the challenge of who would be in charge of the other’s body. He would be a nightmare, unleashing all of his skeptical accusations out on Light. He would delight in that. Having the amazing show of L thrashing up against him as he would try to pin him down to have his way. Ideally being in charge of L was what he thinks he want. However, as his mind runs rampant, recalling the man’s scent, his few landed punches, the occasional times they would touch when chained, he recalls feeling the power discreetly hidden in a deceptively frail frame, perhaps it would be L who would dominate the situation.  
  
Eyes closing he tongues his teeth in thought, not bothering to ignore the growing erection. May as well.  
  
The stage is set, it's only be a matter of time until these thoughts play out in real life. How it would happen would be up to chance, but Light would want to be the one to instigate it. He’d get a completed kiss from those haunting lips, draw out breath after breath until the man was a gasping mess. Light wishes for L to be gripping him tightly in a wanton desperation. Lips would clash horribly perhaps even drawing blood. Certainly L would wrap impossibly nimble hands around Light’s shoulders or even his neck to pull him closer. Mouths would ravage each others skin until clothing became unbearable. They’d probably be in a place where sex would make sense, the shared floor is what comes to mind as his hand dutifully works on his needing member.  
  
Briefly he allows the throbbing to serve as a sick form of punishment while retrieving lubricant from the drawer by his bed. Spreading it on his hand he goes back to his thoughts, L already impatient from their kissing. Pale hands would undo his shirt throwing it to the ground. That crude mouth would finally do something worthwhile and mar Light’s chest, his teasing tongue dipping below his pant line. Those too along with his underwear would come off leaving him completely bare.  
  
They would continue on the bed, where he’d be at the constant mercy of the teasing and wonderful dexterity of L’s tongue. Light assumes he would be spectacularly talented at pleasing him from watching L orally play with his food. That messy hair would block Light’s view of the face of his ultimate rival sucking his own cock. He would want to watch so he would push back those ridiculously messy pointed locks from his face. Inevitably some hair would fall in his face but Light wouldn’t mind, it’d probably only add to the display. Memorizing each second of L’s infuriating mouth licking, sucking and nipping at his dick Light would sigh in pleasure. In the vision he's bucking his hips up when L would so much as hesitate from pleasing him. Surely L would have an extra maneuver up his sleeve, maybe he would moan for added vibration, or use his teeth a surprising amount. Perhaps he would put hands to work to tease Light’s sack fondling it expertly. If that happened he would then go to stroking that sweet spot between the shaft and balls, toying with it until Light was gasping, writhing in muted need coming close to climaxing. Pre-cum would be dripping around L’s mouth, no doubt smirking in satisfaction as he would take Light entirely. By that point Light would grip the inky locks between his fingers tighter, forcing his mouth up and down until L would grip his wrist. His strength would be enough to make Light stay wherever L would desire him. Large grey eyes would be hooded with lust as he’d lick the beginnings of Light’s orgasm from his lip.  
  
“You don’t get to come before me.” his gravelly voice would say, forcing Light to his knees.  
  
In reality, his member twitched in his hand, he required more than just his own palm. Mind fogged by pretended pleasure he demands some form of immediate reenactment. Grabbing a pillow he positions it properly, using his other hand to probe his own entrance, imaging it to be L’s own fingers toying and teasing him.  
  
L would do a through job in preparing him. Somehow the bastard would find the right spots, working him into a shivering ready disarray. His mouth would destroy Light’s neck with rough kisses, teeth grazing his ears, shoulders, devilish tongue dipping and swirling wherever it pleases. To maintain their game of outdoing each other, Light would suddenly find himself face to face with the other’s throbbing erection, words wouldn’t be needed to tell him what he is to do. Determination would draw out the best sounds from L, to feel him be unraveled by nothing more than Light’s tongue. As the early signs of the detective’s own finishing arousal Light would be back on ready knees, spine arched and prepared for his cock to carefully, hastily and a bit roughly fit its way into Light.  
  
He would drink in the noises of such a man thrusting into him, feel L’s hand work to pleasure him. It wouldn’t take much time before they were nothing more than a tangled, orgasming mess heaving, clawing and ripping each other apart. Light’s hand trembles as it works to keep up with his imagination, his hips desperately, mutely slamming into the bedding as he tosses his head around to wrangle a stray bit of the sheets between his teeth. Biting down he muffles his suppressed moans lined with the detective’s name. In the reverie, their joined bodies would roll, twist then eventually relax as they came down from the ecstasy of finally releasing the unspoken tension ignored for far too long. The lust filled haze would dissipate clearing the scene leaving them completely alone.  
  
Panting he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling ashamed of what he fabricated. On the contrary Light is also satisfied in knowing that if he was already this pent up about that damned man then surely it will be reciprocated. There is no arguing it based off L’s reactions. All they had done was talk very closely, Light had hardly touched him yet his fingertips still burn with the memory of shockingly silken skin beneath them. Lifting his fingers to his eyes he flexes each one pretending they belong to another, objectively looking through L’s eyes, would he find these to be the hands of Light or of Kira? Perhaps both, after all one cannot exist without the other, each one righteous, justice. If only L could see that, what a sublime world they could build together.  
  
Recovered, he cleans up hiding the evidence beneath the preexisting trash in the bin.Quietly receding into the bed, the popping blue glow of his phone draws attention to a preview of pleading texts and voice messages from Misa asking for his forgiveness flood his phone.  
  
 _'Idiot. I doubt you've been told to do this...'_  
  
Checking the notifications briefly his speculations are confirmed and the messages are dismissed. He didn’t want to hear her whiny voice before bed nor was he inclined to read beyond the preview lines of text in the notifications. There are, fictional delusions he would prefer to elapse into sleep reminiscing about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did in fact read the little side comics of L's backstory to understand Watari better, no in canon he doesn't adopt L but baby detective gremlin boi did in fact give stock advice. Plus he was instantly getting into cases I imagine it would be easier for Watari to just assume full responsibility for him. Also it's my fave head canon okay? Weirdly enough Watari POV was easy to write from?? I like Watari POV? Probs because I'm a chaos old man at heart? IDK.
> 
> Anyways ummm I promise I do have a vague plot in mind for this and this chapter was supposed to be not this but fiction characters do what they want. 
> 
> Thanks for the feedback, I know Death Note is like a dead fandom-ish so having you guys cheer this on in such infant stages is super appreciated! 
> 
> I also just want good things for Watari, in my imagination he was happy married to a very nice lady and opened the orphanages to fill the void in his heart. Sometimes he holds hands with Roger because he's a GOOD MANS and I need HAPPY OLD MEN HOLDING HANDS TO SET A GOOD EXAMPLE FOR THE CHAOTIC ORPHANS THEY'RE RAISING LIKE FREE RANGE GENIUS CHICKENS. I just simp for the old men in this series, ESPECIALLY Sorichiro Yagami, yummmmm~ I want the fancy fancam iPhone screensaver so bad to be a compilation of Mr. Yagami or Charlie Swan but I don't want to fuck Charlie Swan I just love him.
> 
> Any-who. I'm trying to knock this out while I'm still hype, so upkeep the hype with meeee
> 
> Furthermore, you have no idea what it took for me to not use the phrase 'suck my righteous dick' during Light's fantasy land bullshit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi plot?

Teru Mikami has been scrupulous his entire life. He’s prided himself on this trait while others have found it to be irritating to the highest degree. From youth into adulthood he sides with justice, the absolutes of right and wrong, damning the punishment always inflicted upon him. The onslaught of an apparent lifetime of abuse never appeared to be a true infliction of disciplining, Teru viewed these tribulations as trails.  
  
The first trial was being a beacon of righteousness in his youth. He stood his ground, withstood the beatings to emerge stronger with a handful of agreeing minds behind him. Fate, no, God, took those wretched beasts from him. God stole away his mother as well, no. Passing divine judgement God had properly executed his mother for not aligning with the true paragon of this world, already evolving around everyone. Someone gandering into Teru’s story may think him as tragic, a morose man wed to his work and bound by strict ideals. How wrong that someone would be.  
  
Despite never seeing these hardships as misfortune there was something void, perhaps meaning. Justification presented itself to him in the form of the empyrean entity, Kira. Finally God was claiming a more prominent role in a rotting society. Teru felt God in his adversities he took delicious pleasure in being a devoted watcher from the sidelines. He already has been so favored it would be selfish to wish for more.

He is only human, he did wish for more.  
  
Gluttony came in a discreet eight by eleven inch envelope from an unknown sender. Uncertainty ran high as he peeled back the stiff paper to reveal a precise letter of instructions and the ultimate, delectable book of virtuous intensity. This is why he was born, that individual moment of time was meant for him and only him. He carefully read the instructions telling him that Kira, God, was caught in a position where he could not pass judgement but that Teru is worthy to temporarily be the hand of God. For doing capable work he would be handsomely rewarded. Teru would be immortalized as a newfound holy icon. Metaphoric permanence isn’t of his interest, serving Kira is all he yearns for, all that satisfied him.  
  
The letter told him to do all he could to not be caught. God warned him of the demon L working all too in vain to tear down the birth of a justified world, he spoke of the utmost importance of this villain to stay as far away from the retributions that are to occur steadily. Secondly, an assistant of sorts was provided in the form of a disposable phone with one phone number on it. This contact links him to God’s additional worker but in God’s letter it’s clear that her time of usefulness is running dry. God wishes for Teru to use her to his advantage, keep her in check and if needed to kill her in a way that would never link her back to Kira’s legacy. For now it would be more inconvenient for her to die but her life barely classified as a pawn on God’s chessboard. Thirdly, a new spokesperson is required to boost morale for Kira’s cause. God trusted Teru to make the right call, he had the perfect woman in mind. Fourthly, when the shinigami paired to the notebook appears he is to make ‘the deal’ with that creature. For the advantage of that union will be the sword to help slice down criminals, to pile up their corpses in order to climb over the wicked to make away for the exemplary. Fifthly, five pages of the notebook are to remain under lock and key at all times. Hidden scraps are to be on Teru at all times in ways that could be easily explained or disposed of. Lastly, burn this letter.  
  
Obediently he did all of these tasks, finally reaching out to the contact of God.  
  
Calling the contact he touched base with an incompetent girl with an irate voice. Immediately, it was clear why she was not of importance. Through painful conversation it was obvious that she somehow survived a chapter of God’s life and needed to be disposed of. Teru easily began musing ways to eliminate her or use her to his advantage. As it stood from their most recent conversation she and God were now in limited contact. If anything she was nothing more than a mailing system of codes between he and the wholly principled. But the second her usefulness is overdue, she would cease to annoy his idol.  
  
It is another day for Teru Mikami teaming with the inevitable routine he’s fallen into. However today is a new day from the others, today is the day that he will reach establish a connection toa new voice of God. How he cannot wait for an appropriate messenger to sing.  
  
—-  
  
Matsuda’s expression is identical to that of a cat who got the cream but Matsuda is not a cat much to many people’s dismay and he doesn’t have cream but a tabloid magazine. L didn’t like it, no one in the task force did. His features contort in a multitude of ways before Aizawa cuts the presentation with a stern, “Okay, what the hell are you looking at?”  
  
Shielding his news rag Matsuda coils away, “Ah! Investigate materials! Very important to the case.”  
  
“That is a tabloid.” Aizawa easily tears it from the other investigator’s clutches. His eyes flicker while drinking in the information, “…this might be bad.”  
  
Meeting L’s gaze he turns the reading material for the detective to see, a crisp collage of images splattered on the pages with hot pink key words straightforwardly explaining the documented breakup of pop star Misa Amane and ‘College Student Boyfriend.’ The photographer caught the two cuddling in the booth, their rising argument then eventually Misa somberly leaving the scene tears ruining her makeup. From the spread the editor was focusing on Misa in the ‘story’ below the drama is a line of celebrity headshots as if to offer a list of encouraged matches as rebound options.  
  
“Is that all?” L turns back to the monitor, “I knew of that mere minutes after it happened.”  
  
“Really?!” Matsuda hops to his feet, “You get the Misa-Misa email updates too?!”  
  
“…no.”  
  
“Honestly, Matsuda, what do you do with your time?” Sochiro Yagami, Light’s father, scolds from his paperwork, “Did you not go through the shared drive at all?”  
  
“Well…sorta.”  
  
“Sorta.” Aizawa mocks.  
  
“What?! All that’s on there is Higuchi’s autopsy reports, he was kinda ugly alive, he’s uglier dead.”  
  
“Matsuda!” Sochiro sets his pen down.  
  
“It’s alright.” L hums, “If you had taken some of your valuable time Mr. Matsuda, you would’ve seen the extensive spreadsheets displaying Misa Amane’s new surveillance plan.”  
  
“Oh. What is it-ow!” Aizawa smacks the other man’s forearm with the gossip pamphlet, “Aizawa!”  
  
“Do your job!” he demands, “Read the files yourself!”  
  
Matsuda mutters obscenities under his breath, eyeing the paper still clutched in Aizawa’s hand as he slinks behind a computer, clicking away to read the extensive breakdown of the observation plan. An audible hiss indicates his finishing, “Damn, Ryuzaki…that’s uh…pretty heavy surveillance. Brilliant thought, she won’t suspect paparazzi are actually working for you!”  
  
L makes eye contact with one of the photographs of the breakup pulled up on his screen. Aside from being beside him when Light either deliberately searched for the surveillance information or him truthfully coming across it on accident, if L didn’t know better it is as if Light is glowering him down from the picture. His dark eyes slanted in a haughty challenge, telling him through the lens that he knew, he was on the move, that as Kira he would strike. Or…and his heart sunk at the further conclusion, this is at least for the time being a declaration of his emotions. Light Yagami wouldn’t let Misa Amane go if he is Kira, she has proven to in theory be a valuable assistant, albeit risky. Thumbing his bottom lip the sensation of Light speaking against him ghosts his thoughts, dirtier imaginings trickling in.  
 _  
‘Not now…that game is to be played in secret.’_  
  
“I’m glad you approve.” L starts to comb through the other photos, “Take a look at these, doesn’t it seem like Light is making direct eye contact with the camera?”  
  
“This again.” Aizawa groans, “Ryuzaki, you have to stop it with Light being Kira. He’s more than proven himself innocent.”  
  
“That’s right.” Sochiro agrees, “My son has been nothing but devoted to this case, to you. He has no connection to these killings. I may be overstepping here, but you have pushed enough borderline inhumane treatment of him throughout this investigation. What more could he do to earn your trust?”  
  
“Yeah!” Matsuda chimes in, “You said so yourself, he’s your friend, not only that but he could even succeed you! Shouldn’t you trust him more?”  
  
“I should trust him.” L agrees, “But my intuition says otherwise. I’d like to still hold onto that sliver of chance, in the unlikely event that Kira is Light at least we’ll have that option on the table and prepared for.”  
  
Unsure silence ripples throughout the team. That uncertainty remained throughout the day. L hates the team at times, their narrow-minded evaluations very well could lead to his literal death. How could they not sense that there has always been something very off about Light. Only during the Yotsuba investigation did L ever to some degree actually trust Light. Coldness swept into him at the reminder of that person. He couldn’t allow himself to drown in mourning the brightness of Light’s previous face, how his eyes would sparkle at the littlest joys like doing a small kind favor for a teammate. It would be absolutely foolish to dive into the gentleness of their few accidental touches, what idiot could bathe in the gone fabrication of a person that not only matches his intellect but accepted him? Light never commented on L’s oddities from his manner of sitting, speaking, eating even bathing in a manmade washer puzzled him but didn’t bother him. They had countless late nights bickering back and forth or enthusiastically agreeing with one another about inconsequential matters that would almost always circle to a debate. He would discover hours had passed, that their room was too quiet and new emotions were toiling inside him.  
  
The only source of illumination typically was a computer screen or bedside lamp, whatever it was would reflect off him beautifully. Light is pretty as well as handsome, L’s few insecurities lie with his appearance which generally he couldn't care less about until those lulls of comfortable muteness face to face with his number one suspect neither of them sure how to resume conversation, neither of them seeming to care. He’d be quarreling with himself on if his appearance would keep Light away, he would ponder Light’s reaction to L ‘cleaning up’ as some put it, would it matter?  
  
 _‘That person is gone. Don’t hurt yourself more than needed.’_ he pushes his focus deeper into the case, appraising the data of this Third Kira.  
  
This is how he knows to cope, distraction, consumption of a target more stimulating than the theorized, nonexistent connection that evaporated in the helicopter weeks ago. Romance isn’t a concept of interest for him but instead, it’s manipulation. The world has made it clear that affection is not designed for him. The few stranded memories of his childhood outside of Wammy’s always surfaced to whisper reminders as to how useless he is outside of the objective necessity of what his mind can do. No, he is not nor has he ever been a machine yet the consequence of notable sentiments have thus far posted a high probability of unfavorable outcomes. Which is why he is hesitant deep down to go all into this secondary game with Kira. There’s a third one working as the perfect god while the original mastermind surely is lurking in the task force, exploiting an unforeseen battlefield, one L genuinely fears could potentially destroy him should he not constantly be ready.  
  
“Light!” Matsuda’s eager welcome rips L from his sulking, “My man! I owe you a drink tonight!”  
  
“Why?” both Yagami men inquire, one confused the other offended.  
  
“B-because he had a breakup?” Matsuda squeaks, shrinking under Sochiro’s glower, “I’m sure Light could use a night of man-to-man talking. They were together for what, a year?”  
  
“Something like that.” Light considers, “I appreciate the offer, Matsuda, but it's still a weeknight, I have classes in the morning.”  
  
The disappointment is palpable.  
  
“But…” he backtracks setting his belongings next to L, “There is a break coming up, raincheck then?”  
  
“Sure thing, Light!”  
  
“Responsibly.” Sochiro adds.  
  
“Of course, Dad.” he laughs, “Oh, Ryuzaki, here." he produces a clear to-go container holding a slice of cake, some of the icing had smeared on the plastic, “My friend accidentally got two and forced this on me. I don’t care for these things really and he bolted before I could sneak it back into his bag."  
  
Matsuda coos a taunt of romance to be abruptly verbally attacked by both Sochiro and Aizawa, both more than fed up with his enthusiasm today. Light expertly brushes off the quip setting a pre-packaged plastic fork on top of the dessert, pushing it in front of L, “You really shouldn't joke like that, Matsuda, Ryuzaki is way out of my league.” He takes a seat, “If you don't want it that's fine, like I said, happenstance plus I think you said you liked the cafeteria's strawberry cake?”  
  
“I do, yes." L peels the fork out of the wrapper, popping open the container, hyper-aware of the germs that could be swarming the surfaces, “Odd that you'd remember."  
  
“Well, when you'd visit campus it was always memorable.” Brown eyes sweep to L, satisfied that the other took the offering, “When do you think you could stop by again? I know of a fellow class man that is very interested in seeing her 'sweet Ryuga’ again."  
  
"This conversation isn't appropriate. Thanks for the cake.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
The team recedes back into their work, echoing clacking of keyboards, scribbles of pens and the very soft thrumming of Matsuda’s music playing in his headphones substitutes conversation.  
  
“...is it the girl with the glasses?" L inquires above his breath.  
  
“Yeah."  
  
He hums in amusement, it's always the odd ones he attracts. Who knows, maybe she is a nice girl.  
  
"Returning to the campus would not be beneficial to the case.” he swallows a mouthful, prodding the utensil’s prongs at the lines of his teeth, “My suspicion of you is rather low all factors considered, besides we have Kira Three to decode."  
  
“Fair. I'll be sure to tell her you transferred or something. "

“Say I dropped out, it’s more interesting.”  
  
“A genius dropout, that’ll spread like wildfire.”  
  
“Will it?”  
  
“Definitely.” Light smiles gently, his voice low, “Too bad though, I thought we were going to have another tennis match.”  
  
“You’re rather…amorous for someone who just went through a breakup, Mr. College Student.”  
  
Astonishment paints Light’s expression, feigned is what L personally bets on. His mouth opens then closes, pressing into a line, “You read the tabloids? I figured you’d just get the pictures immediately and not bother.”  
  
“I brought in the magazine columns!” Matsuda chirps, “Mr. College Student!”  
  
Light doesn’t seem impressed by his tabloid nickname, “I really owe Ryuzaki one for getting the media to not list my name in the articles. It’s bad enough Misa would use my first name during interviews."  
  
“Yes, I imagine fame would be problematic for you.”  
  
Discomfort impregnates the room.  
  
“Not just me specifically, a lot of people don’t want fame.” he turns back into the computer, “Anyways, do we have any additional information on the theorized Third Kira?”  
  
“Nothing outside of the methodic killings.” Sochiro answers, “They’ve been non-stop, rampant. The police are doing all in their power to not panic but that is proving difficult given the state of the investigation. It’s very tense, there will be an ICPO meeting within the next few days, before then our team needs to reach a conclusion of the knowledge of the notebook.”  
  
“I still say we keep it a secret.” Matsuda inserts, “It’s such a deadly weapon, it needs to stay under lock and key. Who knows who will come after it if information gets out?”  
  
“Don’t be rude, this place is a fortress. Should knowledge of the notebook get outside of the ICPO it would be extremely, no, practically impossible for someone to enter this building with proper clearance much less be inside without being quickly found out and removed.” L scrapes the last bit of icing from the container, “I want to make it known, I wish to test the thirteen day rule as mentioned. I’m willing to stake my life on the likelihood of it being false.”  
  
“Even if you prove that, we don’ t know if another shinigami might just kill you.” Light points out, “For all we know Kira is some otherworldly force passed on through the death note controlled by the shinigami. It almost looked like the shinigami killed Higuchi to avoid him sharing any knowledge he must’ve gotten about the notebook while using it. Whose to say that wound’t happen to us if we tried tampering with it? We still have a lot to learn about this thing and losing you to see if one rule is fake isn’t worth the cost.”  
  
Their stares entwine for what lasts a short eternity. L’s tolerance of Light was already on thin ice from yesterday paired with the inner quarreling, he isn’t in the mood to have to dissect his seemingly good intentions. Of course he’d say the perfect thing, the exact string of words to convince him that Light isn’t Kira. Nevertheless his flawless facade is what secretly tips him off constantly. On the contrary there is the newfound potential of his motives possibly being controlled by his claimed emotions. Only time can reveal the truths from lies.  
  
“It would be best if we pursue this as if the rule is fake if you want.” Light offers, his expression softening, it makes L sick, “I think everyone here would prefer that option. Besides, we may come across evidence in the future that indefinitely proves the theory of the false rule. Let’s be patient.”  
  
“I’ve been patient.” L mutters behind the fork, “This is the longest a case has drawn out. It is testing me in many ways, Light.”  
  
“And I’m sure it’ll only test you more.” He turns to the computer screen, “We should do as you suggested the other day, approach this Third Kira with fresh eyes, as if it’s new but keeping the old knowledge in our back pocket. Take a look at this…” he tosses up the screen sharing feature, displaying his spreadsheets of the killings, “I’ve been compiling this for a few days now searching for a pattern. I think we are dealing with a potential student again or someone who works an office job.”  
  
“They do keep the same schedules.” Aizawa agrees.  
  
“This side of the data is of the ‘real time killings’ or so I’ve called them, which are the murders performed within a timeframe that implies that Kira saw the news or article and killed a fresh criminal so to speak. We know that you can schedule killings based off the notebooks we have so I suggest we focus our attention on the real time killings in aiding us in finding our new culprit.” Light concludes.  
  
 _‘Always so impressive.’_ L mentally mocks, _‘Do you plot these polished plans or do you allow some room for improvisations? I want you to be the Light I knew…no. You should treat that ‘person’ as if Light Yagami died. This is Kira…this is likely Kira.’  
  
_ “I think this is great way to go about it!” Matsuda cheers, “Great work, Light!”  
  
“Thank you, but don’t get too congratulatory, we still have a lot of work ahead of us. For starters-”  
  
“Ryuzaki.” Watari’s voice crackles over the speakers, “I’m putting on Sakura TV.”  
  
“Thank you.” L shifts to a woman’s face flaring up on every screen.  
  
Another obnoxious display bombards the screens, Demegawa’s pompous character filling the screen, shrouded in priest-like robes with a line of equally dressed men behind him. A mic to his mouth he gestures to a green screen behind him showing the beginnings of building construction. His abrasive voice scrapes on, “…here we have the start of the physical manifestation of Kira’s Kingdom! It’s time we have a place of worship for our savior to hear our voices! We have only just begun divine work! With the help of you, our faithful viewers, we will bring dreams to fruition!”  
  
Light’s demeanor sours, “I can’t believe they’re going this far.”  
  
“For real.” Matsuda chimes in.  
  
“Already we have the unwavering support of wealthy Kira supporters around the world! Kira hear us! We hope this will appease you! Let me present your worth disciples! Firstly,”  
  
Firstly’s breathing abruptly hitches, a hand grabbing at his chest another following quickly in suit. He gasps with wide eyes threatening to pop out of his face, ragged words strung into vague pleas as within minutes he topples to the ground struggling to fight fate until the stopping of his heart lays him to rest. The crew scrambles to the man’s aid as the station cuts to their intermission card.  
  
L observes Light who only displays disgust which could be read a multitude of ways. An index finger explores his mouth as he leans towards him, “What are your thoughts, Light?”  
  
His mouth presses into itself momentarily to cooly reply, “Clearly Third Kira has the ability to kill without a name. Only a face.”  
  
“My thoughts exactly.”  
  
“Abilities aside, the fact that news stations are now showing ample support of Kira is extremely worrisome.” Soichiro points out, “This could spiral into some rather unfavorable outcomes if the public beings to side with Kira.”  
  
“I’d say the public has already begun to side with Kira.” Aizawa frowns, “Or at least from what I’ve seen and heard on the streets. He’s killing the bad guys so to speak, generally speaking people will see past the plain to see murders as justifiable sacrifices for a supposed greater good. Kira’s more dangerous than ever with this kind of platform if it's going to help sway public opinion.”  
  
Gingerly holding up the tabloid Matsuda clears his throat to garner attention to the gothic ‘L’ insignia taking up most of a page. Across it the tagline ‘world’s worst detective’ scrawled over it in the same font. “I mean…we aren’t doing a great job at the public siding with us either. Maybe we should publish more about our successes?”  
  
“What?” Aizawa sneers, “Put in your little trash journal confidential information to make the people like us better? I don’t think so. We don’t need the masses thinking of this in the spectrum of celebrities, we are the police, we aren’t some spectacle!”  
  
“Matsuda does have a point.” Sochiro defends, “But I agree, we cannot stoop to Kira’s level of publicized stunts like this. Our points will be made through actions, by putting Kira behind bars.”  
  
“Right!” Matsuda shamefully folds the magazine onto the table, “Who cares what they think really?”  
  
“So long as it's just the public’s opinion and they don’t start trying to rally for our dismantlement or the world’s leaders and governments also do not begin to share these sentiments.” L concludes, Light notices the somberness of his words, “Anyway, this should serve as additional pressure for us to hurry in closing this case, should any additional variables…fuel the fire.”  
  
The team perks up at his words despite the depressing tone. Work stretched late into the night until the same pair is left in the room both having gone quite a few hours without exchanging a single thought between them. It took the dainty rustling of cheap paper for Light to realize L left his chair, his curled frame bowed over Matsuda’s gossip booklet. A finger rests at his mouth, stare unblinking. A terrible trickling of satisfaction blossoms in Light, how pathetic a sight to see the ‘world’s greatest’ appearing upset by what a disposable publication thought of him. How he wishes he could rudely insult him, jab at how massive a failure L seems to be in the public eye, all it would do is fuel personal rage justifying a shallow vendetta.  
  
Mindful of the fury is required but from hereon out he has to mold the Light Yagami capable of corrupting the strongest force he’s encountered. This moment is best used to sway speculation to unwavering credibility of his innocence. Getting up he stops behind the other, the perfume of shampoo, cologne and natural odor wafting his senses.  
  
 _‘Now is an appropriate time to indulge.’_ he reminds himself, _‘You can at least try to see where natural inclinations take this.’   
  
_“It’s a stupid magazine.” he finally says, reaching to lift the magazine careful to brush past L’s bicep, “Who cares what…’Today Pop’ thinks of you.”  
  
That one touch threw electricity up L’s arm to shoot up his spine throughout his body. He remains still wondering what moves Light would make, for now he would allow the other to lead these times alone. It would be easier for him to do it this way, that way it wouldn’t feel like he was desperately chasing after someone who did not exist. “It’s a reminder to a lost privilege.”  
  
“Privilege?"  
  
“Of being unknown. I don’t like the public knowing me although given the nature of this case it cannot be helped.”  
  
“The ICPO knew of you.”  
  
“The ICPO will keep their slanders in their work moderated email chats.”  
  
He guffaws, “I'm sure if you really leaned into it, if you could have some silly magazine spread you’d have hundreds of adoring college girls crawling to your doorstep longing for their 'Sweet Ryuga.’”  
  
The corner of L’s mouth twinges, “That's nightmarish.”  
  
“Is it better than being the world's worst?”  
  
“To do that I would not just be the world’s worst but not myself." he watches Light place the magazine on the desktop, “Back to our discussion of fame…I agree. It seems strenuous. I don't know how Amane managed."  
  
Light forces a very long pause, a small pained clearing of the throat should send the message that he's wounded by the mentioning of his supposed ex-girlfriend. This takes L by minuscule shock, the world's worst turning to face him, hands slipping into jean pockets.  
  
“Don’t tell me. It wasn't one sided?  
  
 _‘Good, take the bait.’  
  
_He shrugs, “Don't get me wrong, I’m not entirely sure how it happened, and she's really not compatible with me…" _  
_  
“...but?"  
  
“But.” he smiles austerely, “I couldn't keep lying to her or myself. I did mean what I said last night, L."   
  
“You cannot keep calling me that.”  
  
“It’s just us.”

“It could turn to a bad habit, you could slip up, it’s not a smart choice-”  
  
“You can’t handle me saying your name, I get it.” Light cuts him off, turning to glower at the screens with subdued aggravation, “Maybe it’s because it’s really your name.”  
  
L’s blood runs cold, he steps nearer, “Sure, that’s it.” He dryly replies, “I also meant what I told you.” he adds gently, unsure where these lies began and truth started, “Case aside we could never work.”  
  
“We could try.” he murmurs, shifting to look him in the eye, “I felt like we were, I don’t know, building something when I was under your personal surveillance. Not just friendship, as messy as it is I do think of us as friends, but I also can’t help but think that you also feel the same for me.” Two calculated steps forward brings them only inches apart, “If you aren’t as interested as you say you wouldn’t probably broken my sternum last night.”  
  
“I can fix that.”  
  
“Kiss me.”  
  
That wasn’t planned. But then again he was playing with the concepts of winging it as far as this new tournament goes, it also is shaking his prey as throughly as it is beginning to test his own volition.  
  
“Kiss me.” he repeats, a hand flying to that impossibly sharp jawline, breathing against him, enveloped by those intoxicating smells that urge his utmost disgusting yearnings, “Kiss m-”  
  
L couldn’t take it anymore. His own palms flew to the sides of Light’s face, drawing him down to finally join their lips together deeply, savoring the beautifully firm, plush sensation of that vile mouth against his. The softness of another against him shatters him instantaneously, mutilating all common sense there is only this moment and these inebriating inhibitions to entirely indulge in the pent up frustration toiling for months now. He detests how amazing Light tastes as that silver tongue slips into L’s mouth, benevolently exploring to its satisfaction. Nothing could be more humiliating than admitting that he relishes in this, normally averse to human touch in these immediate moments he demands nothing less. His body leans further into Light who welcomes him without hesitation, capable arms wrapping around him deepening the kisses picking up the pace.  
  
Breathy pauses are all that is said between them as Light’s hands move to L’s neck, collarbones, down his chest to circle his hips teasing his pant line to next grip his ass. Without warming he hoists him up into his arms, L’s legs springing from the floor to latch around a surprisingly sturdy torso. In this position L i terribly aware of his own growing erection, a stifled moan escapes him as Light sets him on a clear space of desk to earnestly introduce his own hardness to the other. Another moan leaves L’s lips through grit teeth, dark grey eyes furiously flash as he grips Light’s shoulders then extend his arms to keep him at that length.  
  
An innocent, curious expression settles on Light’s face, it almost undoes L then and there for blinking back at him is the one he’s been mourning. He cannot stop his hands from shaking as he steadily lowers his arms, Light remains what feels like miles away. Embarrassment colors his cheeks, he opens his mouth to speak but L does so instead, “This is…not good."  
  
“I thought it was pretty great. How can I improve?” he dips forward to get a foot to the stomach.  
  
“Do. Not. Go any further.” L rasps, still trying to get control, it burns to not touch him, strip him, have him here and now, he’s trembling with how wretchedly he demands Light to be a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, “I cannot possibly begin on how-”  
  
“Amazing that felt.” Light interrupts, shoving L’s foot down, catching the next one flying up to replace it, twisting it down to pin both his legs on the desk. Panicking arousal ignites in his stomach as Light does that maddening speaking against his mouth, “What will it take to get you to submit to me?”  
  
“Absolutely nothing you are capable of.” L’s hand lashes out to grip the collar of Light’s shirt to crush their lips together, drinking in the moan dribbling out his mouth. It’s his turn to take control, “I would much rather you submit to me.”  
  
“Consider it done.” he grins, allowing his voice to tremble, this is going much better than anticipated.  
  
“Consider it out of the question.” he resumes, painstakingly reclining away, “I do not believe you. But you’ve made it painfully clear that you’re not going to let this go. Fine, have it your way. I’ll play along but only until you can convince me that you are not lying.”  
  
Light sighs, itching to forgo these exasperating exchanges and go for the obvious physical conclusion that would eventually happen, he finds it redundant to put him through these trials. If only L would let him touch, he would be able to better sell himself to get this plan going quicker. Surely they only have so much time left before something detrimental happens to prevent their covert fighting from carrying on.  
  
“You’re really not giving me much to work with.” Light murmurs, licking at the other’s lips, “I’ve left my girlfriend-”  
  
“You didn’t even like her.”  
  
“I like you.”  
  
“Prove it.” he slips off the desk, wiping at his lip with the pad of his thumb, “And it’ll allow this…at least on a physical level. You’re not privy to my emotions, Light, not in that way.”  
  
“Because I’m Kira?”  
  
He smiles, is this what heartbreak is like?  
  
“One percent chance, yes.”  
  
That leaves a ninety-nine percent chance of no. Quite favorable odds statistically speaking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no we got plot, I think?
> 
> Death Note fics are hard man, the canon is so tightly written, I'm glad we diving off from a certain point otherwise getting these two to be super mega gaaayyyyayayayay would be The Difficult. 
> 
> Anyways, yeeting then editing later I have The Work to do. 
> 
> Your lovely comments really do help motivate me! How do we feel about advancing Takada's career? Because I need the post-L death point for that to play into my plans, but we might do a MEGA TIMESKIP soon IDK. I planned this to be A Slow Burn ™️ But L was getting very much done with the Kira Case Bullshit in canon by this point so I honestly do not know how much he would be able to take without literally exploding. We'll see, like I said before, this thing kinda just does what it wants? I am but a humble monkey with word thoughts and a keyboard.


	4. Chapter 4

_‘Holy.’   
  
‘Sacred.’  
  
‘Clean.’   
  
‘Pure.’  
  
‘Beautiful.’_

If Kiyomi were superstitious or fond of fated fantasies, she would consider her parents psychics for selecting a name nothing short of a prediction of who she would become. Supernatural or not they were extremely generous for bestowing a powerful name, unsuspecting of the unbridled destiny inevitably presenting itself unto her in benign circumstances. With the rise of Kira the world is always changing around her, it is a world that she always saw as bleak. This dimensional cage has been painted a stale beige her entire life, occasionally bursting with gemstones of color be it people, experiences or material objects.  
  
She was born lucky, pampered by well off parents who never gave her anything short of what she wanted. Her mind already came wired to perfection, schooling naturally falling into commendable scores. Enrolling to To-Oh University felt like leisure sport. Sure, she put in the training to be ready to play the game but at the end it didn’t feel particularly earned. Boys swooned into her arms, sometimes even confidant girls which she would humor to test her own sexuality, a more bendable mold than expected. One boy, Light Yagami, had appeared to slip through her loose grasp as of late, Kiyomi wasn’t even certain where their stance was despite the scarce media coverage of his partnership with pop idol, Misa Amane.  
  
That information alone stalled her, Light is undoubtedly an intellectually engaging man. One who came in the utmost perfect package, an ideal husband to pursue through college, which was the real motive to attending. Her aspirations are ambitious, in order to properly obtain them Kiyomi demands a man of two types.  
  
Type A: Compliant Trophy Husband; a man to serve nothing beyond a source of easy income while Kiyomi builds her career. Trophy Husband must have a baseline motivation to climb the social ladder, be it in society, his career or politics. He should have a mellow demeanor, want two point five children and have at least three kinks, she’d be damned if she subjected herself to be fucked by a man who thinks missionary position is ‘erotic.’ This man will be expected to be nothing more than a bearable, breathing sexual release that can financially support Kiyomi and himself while her career blossoms. The role for him is nothing more than accessory at the end of the day. Most importantly, Trophy Husband should worship Kiyomi, for as she branches into the television market, seducing it at every turn possible, an adoring husband will only sell her image further.  
  
Type B: Power Husband; a man with all the desirable traits of Trophy Husband, but with the raw, untapped hunger of someone willing to slice down the world to get what he wants. Power is the sexiest thing about a person to Kiyomi, so understandably a man who is also consumed by gathering as much of his own power as possible will not only benefit Kiyomi financially or career wise it provides intellectual partnership. She could never be chained to someone mundane. Surely Power Husband would be intense, that intensity would breed an interesting sexual variation, chances being that she would be the lesser in the creative department between the sheets. Power Husband isn’t required to worship her, but it is heavily encouraged, however mutual respects equated to the previous prerequisite. He would have his focus aside from their life together, they would have a symbiotic relationship merging into one intimidating strength, a power couple in every sense of the phrase.  
  
Of course both types are expected to be conventionally attractive, a stable relationship with family, no drug problems, etc. Light Yagami was, and still is, the immaculate amalgamation of Type A and Type B Husbands. The entrance to their relationship felt so mechanical, Kiyomi could tell that he also had a vital rulebook for a partner, it was an honor to be considered by him. They were far from passionate but she respected him, admired him, and had a challenge in her clutches to romantically decode him. Kiyomi was excited to learn more about him, play with him in private to learn what makes him tick, lay nude with him speaking softly of deeper conventions.  
  
But that all vanished from sight. He disappeared for months, returning without elucidation. Light didn’t so much as maintain text conversation or return her calls. He didn’t even have the gall to properly sever their relationship. Alone at college, humiliated by an ideal phantom of the relationship she had manifested lost to the world. Refusing to be the weak one between them, closing her ears to the whispered rumors of him shacking up with Misa or running away on a grandeur adventure with the aloof ‘Ryuga’ Kiyomi choked her rage, flinging it into her work.  
  
The nights spent pondering his whereabouts, despising her adamant respect of him, she steeped in the wrongs befallen to her emerging with a stupid epiphany of quitting the idealizations of support. She didn’t need anyone, she had herself, people would serve as nothing more than tools to advance her priorities. Those mannequins, Husbands A and B, faded to ideologies nothing short of childhood playthings, fabrications now obsolete.  
  
Reclaiming her own status she performed flawlessly in a method that appeared miscalculated. Sitting in class, between periods or enjoying on campus lunch, Kiyomi drank in the image of the goddess she was constructing. All of these voices of her peers reverberating throughout the college walls covering into a conversation between thousands:  
  
 _“Did you see Kiyomi at that party last weekend?”_  
  
 _“Who didn’t? Ms. To-Oh more like Ms. To-Oh-no, I cannot believe she trashed the bar but paid the tab.”_  
  
 _“Ridiculous.”_  
  
 _“Watching her kick everyone’s glasses off the counter was pretty amazing though.”_  
  
 _“To then announce she was getting the tab?”_  
  
 _“Very rude.”_  
  
 _“Outrageous.”_  
  
 _“Who is she trying to be?”_  
  
 _“Her family has some money…but I didn’t think it was that much money…”_  
  
 _“I’d hate to be the host.”_  
  
 _“It was hot though.”_  
  
 _“She’s always been hot.”_  
  
 _“Using the flowers of the bouquet like confetti made for a great story.”_  
  
 _“Yeah, but that was a very large, expensive bouquet.”_  
  
 _“Maybe she is fucking the guy who hosted?”_  
  
 _“What was his name?”_  
  
 _“Does it matter?”_  
  
 _“I kinda want to invite her to my next party…”_  
  
 _“I just want to be with her. If a chick’s doing that shit sober-”_  
  
 _“I hear she was wasted._  
  
 _“Stone cold sober, using a private bar like her own playhouse.”_  
  
 _“She can use me like that anytime.”_  
  
 _“Well you know what they say…pampered kids like that…snap.”_  
  
 _“Her boyfriend did break up with her.”_  
  
 _“No way.”_  
  
 _“Yagami? Isn’t he dating Misa Amane?”_  
  
 _“How lucky!”_  
  
 _“What a downgrade.”_  
  
 _“Who would want Barbie when you can have Jackie-O on crack?”_  
  
 _“What a handsome woman.”_  
  
 _“Handsome…she is isn’t she?”_  
  
 _“Hot.”_  
  
 _“Smart.”_  
  
 _“So uppity.”_  
  
 _“I wish I could pull off a pixie cut like that.”_  
  
 _“It’s more like a short bob.”_  
  
But to her face they would say:  
  
 _“Hey, Kiyomi, would you like to come to my house this evening? To study, of course.”_  
  
 _“Kiyomi! I love your dress, so pretty.”_  
  
 _“Could you help me?”_  
  
 _“Thank you so much, you’re so kind!”_  
  
 _“I appreciate a women with a drive.”_  
  
 _“It would be my honor to have you over this weekend, my family is going to our spa for a few days.”_  
  
 _“Just don’t tell anyone, I don’t do this for anyone.”_  
  
 _“Of course, only you could get me to do this.”_  
  
 _“I’m so glad my uncle liked you! He’s a big name at NHN, he mentioned that you would be perfect for the internship program coming up.”_  
  
 _“Wow you’re so busy! Thanks for stopping by my party! You really know how to make a room come alive!”_  
  
 _“My aunt is so impressed with your work, she wanted me to give you this as a thank you!”_  
  
 _“How did you manage to get an entry level job at this age?”_  
  
 _“She slept for it."   
  
“Don’t speak about Kiyomi like that, I know firsthand that she earned it.”_  
  
 _“Smart.”_  
  
 _“Manipulative.”_  
  
 _“You hosted the Kira Talkshow?! How amazing is that!”_  
  
 _“We watched you, Kiyomi!”_  
  
 _“I saw your name in the credits of the news!”_  
  
 _“I’m proud to know you.”_  
  
 _“Please make it if you can.”_  
  
Her predictive risks of being a party girl for the most minuscule second skyrocketed her in ways she could have only dreamed of. Giving her facade multiple angles, letting people feel special, working them for their worth delivered marvelously. Never did she expect to go ahead with dropping her courses to online classes in order to gouge out her place as a front lining face of NHN’s broadcaster network. Like with the rest of her life thus far, the pieces of the puzzle fell automatically. Even the unexpected parts turned into Kiyomi’s favor.  
  
Mikami was at the Kira Talkshow she hosted, he like herself possessed a strong sense of conviction, to be expected of a public prosecutor. He would have been an adequate substitute for Light Yagami in her Type Husband phase, while his attractiveness was not something she would ever overlook should that ever present itself in their cafe talks, it wasn’t of substance pertaining to their long coffee scented conversations. She grew to like him considerably, enjoying mundane discussions of his job, sharing their agreed viewpoints, deviating to politics, current events and of course, their point of convergence, Kira.  
  
He is a devout follower. A follower in the shadows due to not wanting to jeopardize his job by having too strong of a stance of a controversial figure. But he is a follower nonetheless, his admiration glistening in his eyes, the superiority of finding a force matching his personal agenda of evolution. They both agreed that it would only be a matter of time until the world knelt for Kira, then perhaps their god could emerge to present himself.  
  
When that happened Kiyomi is prepared to be one of his headlining icons. The media world is divided by the morality of Kira, watching with bated breath to see which side the coin lands on. All of her money is on Kira, her hopes too. Beginning winnings of that wager peered into her fortune at one of their meetings.  
  
It was an afternoon meeting, they happened to have the same extended lunch time and met up. They got their same table, same order, creatures of habit. The exchanges were even routine. Conversation eventually trickled to comfortable silence, Mikami was gazing out the window a thoughtful twinkle behind his glasses. His stare shifted to her, some unidentifiable emotion toiling inside as he asked, “Kiyomi, would it be appropriate to invite you to my home this evening for dinner?”  
  
She was touch starved, she also did like Mikami in more ways than one.  
  
“I think it appropriate, but I am curious as to the occasion?”  
  
“I find you beautiful. I’d like to know you more…intimately.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“I get off work at nine.”  
  
“The news can go later than that, would ten be alright?”  
  
“Of course. Here’s my address…”  
  
She kept the napkin with his home in her pocket. On bathroom breaks she found herself analyzing his handwriting, slanted, elegant, diligent. Her stomach stirred with excitement at the prospect of what undoubtedly he wanted, sex. After work Kiyomi didn’t have time to stop home to change into something more arousing than her everyday bra and panties, so she stopped into a lingerie store. Quickly she found a set that suited her tastes. Wearing it underneath her clothing she presented the tags to the cashier to make checkout easier.  
  
Much like his handwriting, Mikami’s apartment matched him like some people’s pets reflect their personalities. Everything was stark which constructed with the warm fire crackling in the living room and the comforting cuisine wafting from an equally summery kitchen. He was a perfect gentleman, closeting her coat, pouring wine and expertly plating a perfectly prepared wagyu paired with crisply sautéed vegetables and some sort of elevated puree.  
  
Discussions were just as it was in the cafe, nothing changed in this setting aside from that Kiyomifelt like she could relax. Perhaps it was the wine or the way the fire’s reflection licked at the rims of Mikami’s glasses, maybe even how this was the first time she was seeing him in casual clothing, despite it having luxury insignia’s discreetly embroidered to the materialistic eye. Whatever it was once they were done with dinner, resting comfortably on the couch, she struck when their inevitable quietness set in. Kiyomi has no qualms being the dominate one, especially after a few glasses of wine. A breath away from him was where he stopped her, cupping her chin using that to guide her back.  
  
“This isn’t why I invited you here, Kiyomi.”  
  
“I apologize for misreading the situation. I hope you’re not offended.”  
  
“Absolutely not, flattered beyond your knowledge.” he lowered his hand, “How strong is your devotion to Kira?”   
  
_‘Was this his kink?’_ She wondered if she should answer seductively.  
  
“Unwavering.”  
  
“You would never betray him?”  
  
The way he said that made the air heavy.  
  
“Never.”  
  
“Even if your life depended on it?”  
  
“Even so.”  
  
“I’m so happy to hear that, Kiyomi.” he remained quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, “What would your thoughts be on me being apart of Kira?”  
  
The world stopped, as did her breath.  
  
“Part of..Kira?”  
  
He stood up, “Please wait here.”  
  
She complied too well, her mind warping with the disbelief of what was unfurling around her. Had she been getting coffee with Kira? Did she just try to kiss the rising god of a new world order? Was she worthy…absolutely she is worthy. No one else would be fitting to be by such a force’s side.  
  
Mikami returned soundlessly with a slim notebook in hand, etched words reading ‘Death Note’ on a scratched leather-like surface. Between two hands he presents it to her, “This is the divine power of Kira. It is mine and I want it to be yours too.”  
  
They spent the night conversing, Kiyomi dutifully absorbing Mikami’s plans, learning of how he became apart of god. She clung to each word as if it would be the last one to listen to. What a divine mission, how else would she respond other than accepting wholeheartedly?  
  
“Of course I’ll accept this role you have planned for me.” she agreed, concluding any of his doubts.  
  
A pleasant smile bloomed on Mikami’s features as he set the notebook on the coffee table, “I cannot explain how happy this makes me. I will not relay your acceptance to god, instead we will make a debut for the emerging gospel.”  
  
“How soon?”  
  
“I cannot say.” he picked up his wine, “God is in a position of intense surveillance. The detective L more or less seems to have him under lock and key.”  
  
“How is he able to join us if he’s so suppressed?”  
  
“Kira is immeasurably talented.” Mikami rolled his eyes, sinking invisible knives into her skin, “I theorize that he is keeping L under a mutual confinement of sorts. This battle could rage on for years, Kiyomi, we are his army, we must do what we can to weaken L, the police, the world to submit to the new world. It will take various forces to set the stage for him to properly present himself and reign. Unfortunate for us, L is the biggest threat that will be tedious to dismantle.”  
  
“You mean kill?”  
  
He sipped from the wine, completing the glass, “As I see it…an ideal outcome would be the total submission of L and his forces bowing and serving Kira’s will.”  
  
The world seemed brighter at the prospect. She moved closer to him, basking in the shared prophetic vision, “That would be quite the symbol…bending God to Lucifer’s plan so to speak.”  
  
“Precisely.” he poured another glass, the fire began to die down, “Except here the angels are demons, the demons…righteous.”  
  
They did not make love that night, they did not so much as kiss.  
  
Kiyomi left with a wine soaked brain whirling with infinite responsibly.  
  
She stands now on her balcony of her modest apartment, the cool night wind caressing her skin through her new lingerie. Closing her eyes she imagines it enveloping her entirely, emptying her spinning mind to embrace the city, listening to the bustle, clamor and sirens. It is a lonely symphony of a wicked system shrieking out unjustly. What a horrid atmosphere. Exhaling pleasantly she sinks onto the concrete below her feet, stretching out on the surface, goosebumps transforming her skin as she drinks in this cursed world. As a budding goddess it is her duty to learn the cite of a newfound establishment.  
  
 _‘Holy.’   
  
‘Sacred.’  
  
‘Clean.’   
  
‘Pure.’  
  
‘Beautiful.’  
  
_Those words are what the citizens will sing as they worship their goddess. It’s only a matter of time.  
  
 _‘Are you watching, Kira?’_ she wonders as the darkness of sleep consumes her, _‘Watch me carve out your vision for you while you fight. Please…just welcome me to your side, I am worthy, I am already that what you need.  
  
_ On her balcony fading into unconsciousness, she welcomes the teaming course sprawling before her.

—-  
  
It has been four days. Light is nearing his patience.  
  
He expected the seduction of L to be a tiring process but not this arduous. Nearly every trick in the book has been used on the elusive man now hunched over a childish stacking of empty jelly containers, there must be something being painfully, obviously overlooked. The task force had gone out for a lunch break, all of them fidgety and bored. L had even gone so far as to suggest they take an extended luncheon. Light knew it was because the detective was being annoyed by Matsuda’s heavy sighing, his father’s throat clearing, Aizawa’s teeth grinding, Ide's occasional pacing and Mogi’s sudden silence destroying overly boisterous answering of his ‘work cellphone’ masquerading as Misa’s manager.  
  
This is a prime time for him to attempt to continue getting under L’s skin, but Light is tired of trying so evidently. He half debated releasing his possession of the death note, but that would ruin the longterm plans. All he had to do was tap into the person that would be here without the blessing of the note. Without the rose tinted hypothetical of L perhaps being interested in him during their time handcuffed, there were some small hints that the other has a soft spot for him.   
  
_‘I could do it.’_ he muses, _‘Mikami has control of the notebook, he’s been doing a great job. The point of doing that was for many reasons, being able to, at least at face value, pursue L without complications.’  
  
_ “You want to go for a walk?” he blurts.  
  
Dark grey eyes peer from behind a bland white shirted shoulder, “…why?”  
  
“Because you’re going to ruin your knees sitting like that all the time.”  
  
“With Kira still on the loose I doubt the longevity of my knees will matter.”  
  
Standing up Light takes a handful of steps, tugging on L’s shirt, “Enough of that. Kira’s not here but I am unafraid to go after your knees with blunt force.”  
  
Owlish eyes narrow, “Are you insinuating that you’d blow out my kneecaps, Light?”  
  
“You’re smart enough to deduce my innuendo, I don’t need to clarify it with you.”  
  
“What if I want you to?”  
  
Light huffs, yanking on L’s shirt harder, “You’re ridiculous.”  
  
L shrugs in his own odd way of just swaying his head a certain way, indicative of giving in. Shoving Light’s hand off of his shirt he stands, “Stop, you’ll stretch it out.”  
  
“Not like you don’t have twenty others pressed and ironed ready the second you command it.”  
  
“You make me sound so…”  
  
“Petulant?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You are petulant. Don’t act surprised.”  
  
They fail into pace immediately as they meander out of the room, L’s hunched forwardness leading the way up the stairs, hands shoved in his pockets, “I’m just surprised at how…mean you’re being despite claiming wanting to woo me.” he mutters.  
  
“Yeah well, the chocolates, food invitations, complements, outing invitation, bringing you I don’t know how many cafeteria cakes-”  
  
“You could resume that, I like them quite a lot.”  
  
“Dually noted.” Light dully groans, “Anyways, nice isn’t working on you unsurprisingly.”  
  
“Maybe I’m not interested.”  
  
He scoffs, “No one puts their tongue down someone else’s throat out of disinterest.”  
  
L slows their walk as they turn an aimless corner, “And pretty boys like you don’t go after men like me unless they want something.” he mumbles.  
  
“It’s hard to understand you when you speak like that.” Light sighs, “…and is it really so hard to believe? I can’t believe you’d be so insecure, Ryuzaki.”  
  
“Not insecure, aware.”  
  
“Of?”  
  
“I’m ugly.” he thumbs his lips, “Odd to say in the least. That typically attracts a very specific person and you don’t fit that bill unless you’re Kira.”  
  
Light stops walking, facing L directly, “Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t care about how you look like?”  
  
“I imagine you could overlook it to obtain a more important motive, yes.”  
  
Not even faking emotion at this point Light pinches the bridge of his nose, gently massaging the area, “…for someone so…incredibly intelligent you’re a dumbass.”  
  
“I’ve been told that before.”  
  
“Then I’m sure you’re not accustomed to what I have to say next.” He lowers his hand, “I’m attracted to your intellect, L, ah, Ryuzaki. No, your appearance isn’t necessarily within my tastes, but looks aren’t my priority. I’d rather someone who looks like they’ve electrocuted themselves with a mind so astonishingly vast, than a conventionally attractive partner.” Allowing a part of him to unlock, he speaks freely, as Light Yagami untouched by Kira’s will, “I would much prefer someone who I can sit alone with for hours. Who can ignite me into a rage without question but also calm me with their contemplative problem solving. It may surprise you to know that I want someone who is my equal, not someone who doesn’t appease me outside of their physical shell.”  
  
No one has ever spoken to L like this. Not once in his life, he hates how eloquent Light is, how vulnerable he appears to be. He aches for this to be a different time, opposite circumstances. His expression is deflated, hazed with that brand of honesty from speaking a little too freely.  
  
“And I pass this rubric?” L inquires softly, his voice sounding too loud, too annoying next to Light’s smooth words in a quiet hallway.  
  
Vaguely wounded eyes bare into him, they are both hurting.  
  
“…yes. And I don’t know what to do to explain this to you.” His voice a hoarse whisper, “I make advances, you retaliate in a crueler way than rejection, you accuse me of being the worst mass murderer of probably all time. I’ve not even told my family of my preferences yet I take the gamble to show you and get a harsher treatment than being slapped or outed.” he tensely inhales, “The prospect of playing a game of intimacy with you has plagued my thoughts since we discussed it. But as I’ve had more time to evaluate the conversation I think it is you who has a lot of proving to do to me.”  
  
“Excuse me?” L is astonished at Light’s impeccable ability to turn the blame so effortlessly.  
  
“From my viewpoint, here’s this crazy detective that has detained me, abused me, in his own way unknowingly swayed me to have developed emotions for him to then rudely accuse me when all evidence points to my innocence. How do I know that this isn’t all some elaborate manipulation?” he steps closer, the nauseating perfume of L’s scents clouding his better judgement, “In my eyes it is you who should be proving yourself to me, Ryuzaki. I’ve already made myself more than available to you, outside of this case or otherwise.”  
  
They stare into each other’s pinned expressions, neither moving, both hardly breathing.  
  
“I’m not going to force myself onto you. It wouldn’t feel right. You’re clearly not interested despite you showing some…hypocrisy with your actions. I wanted to take you on a walk to apologize, and to consider this game over.”  
  
Not the talk L was expecting, neither is his arm acting on its own to lash out to grasp Light’s wrist at the smallest motion of him moving to leave. His hand barely trembles as his mind wracks for some logical excuse to do what his body decides is the optimal choice, gently kissing Light in a mute apology. If this is an act, it’s one he could indulge in. Turning out another surprise, he isn’t kissed back. Pulling away he uses the speaking trick against his theoretic adversary, “Why didn’t you kiss back?”  
  
“…because you confuse me.” Light whispers, his hand flaying L’s face, turning him into the wall, pressing him into it roughly, “You are the only person to exist to have done this.”  
  
L’s long fingers wrap around Light’s sturdy wrists, “It appears that our game has shifted to mutual work. I have much to prove to you and you to me.”  
  
“Why?” Light practically begs, ashamed of how pathetic he sounds, “I don’t care if you're ‘not good for me’ I’m not sure what i'm looking for from you, but I’d like to just throw caution, say fuck it, let this progress organically.” he rests his forehead against L’s, from what he’s gauged the gentler, more vulnerable tactics have proven most favorable. His thumb strokes L’s cheek, mesmerized by the velvet texture, “I won’t hurt you.”  
  
Four words never cut so deep.  
  
“No one can keep that promise, Light.” L carefully pries himself from Light’s hold, “Not even someone as perfect as you.”  
  
Perfect, so that is the image L must have of Light.  
  
“I’m not perfect. If I were perhaps I would at least have you to some capacity.” he crosses his arms, glaring down the barren hallways, “Well, thanks for taking this walk with me, Ryuzaki. It’s been…informative.”  
  
L merely nods, a fingernail pinched between his teeth, “…would it be okay to go on another soon?”  
  
Expecting to catch a vengeful glower, L is welcomed by a gentle smile, the ghost of that past Light Yagami peering through stronger than before. Perhaps Kira, whatever it is, is leaving him and by some twisted miracle the universe is returning him.  
  
“Sure, I’d like that.”  
  
“Thank you, Light.”  
  
The smile widens, L has to remind himself of the phantasm possibility of this still all being a ploy, “My pleasure, Ryuzaki.”  
  
Returning to the main area of the task force together they claim their seats just a little closer than before. The stagnantatnon of unspoken tension lifting to clear way for the inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was listening to remixes of 'Killer Queen', 'Man-eater' and 'All Around the World' plus many other debatable 'bangers' while writing Kiyomi's intro and honestly, not mad at all what a bad bitch. Can I be her when I grow up? IDK if her and Mikami are going to be a thing I think she's still secretly in love with Light and would want to play with that in the future. But thank you guys for giving feedback on wanting to see her introduced sooner, I think putting her in here and calling back later on will pay off nicely. 
> 
> I've also accidentally made like all of the main players queer to some capacity, except Mikami? But I cannot tell you of one person I've met who hasn't thought of or at least played around with the same sex. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope this satisfies! L is so much softer than I meant him to be but these boys need to just G O FOR IT. To so boldly quote Shia Le BUFF 'Just DO IT!'
> 
> Seriously, tho endless thanks for the feedback it really motivates me! ; ;


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so long (that's what she saiddd) but yo we got a lot of ground covered which is Gucci?
> 
> I'd like to point out that I accidentally wrote 'Ukita' instead of 'Ide' in the last chapter and have fixed this, because they are the most side of the side hoes on the task force. I get them confusion, Ukita is already dead at this point of the narrative and Aizawa and Ide are back in the club after Higuchi's arrest. I also forgot that like Aiber and Wedy also are still hanging out so they'll be yeeting in here and there but not much because this is not * a b o u t t h e m * 
> 
> Anyways my dudes, I hope you guys enjoy as of posting this I still haven't had time to edit any typos so pls forgive~
> 
> Comments always appreciated if you wish to feed my motivation to write more of this convoluted gay shittttatatata

When Light went home that night L took a break, which hasn’t happened in almost a decade. Their whispered confessionals would not leave his head. Every small touch, angelic breeze of his breath, even his lingering polo cologne proved to be an astronomical distraction. He has pills for these occasions or particularly complex cases. That usually helped. Calling Watari, he ordered three of them. His caretaker was startled, but complied to the request. Two hours, a coffee, tart and a few eyebrow hairs plucked out later, L did not get the release he was searching for. Instead he was jittery beyond comprehension, anxiety racking up to an all-time high, his focus not on the case or the other side cases he had accepted, everything was Light Yagami.  
  
The screen reflection served as a mocking mirror, teasing L’s imagination of dreams where Light would appear in the glare, having come back for more.  
  
The tabletop was too barren. Glitching fragments of carnal yearning teased images of Light’s body stretched on its surface arching beneath L, reaching to his touch.  
  
Even the floor was a distraction. It was vacant therefore a creative playground. Nothing was safe.  
  
His mind was racing faster than normal without medication. The drugs only amplified established blockades worsening preeminent mental ramblings. Walls were rushing past him, numbers, statistics, faces, sound clips, evidence whirling around in his mind, at the center of it standing Light Yagami with the mask of Kira twisting his expression. That wasn’t the man of his fantasies, but of his realty. Crude features melted to a man who was genuine, sweet and gentle. The vision held out a hand, voice ricocheting clamor amongst the chaos, _“I won’t hurt you…” he coaxed, “I won’t hurt you, L.”  
_  
 _“You can’t promise that. I already told you.”_ he projected to the hologram, _“You’re Kira.”  
_  
His head lulled to the side in a uniquely personal condescending manner, _“You need to let go of that, I’m not Kira. Why not dismiss that old theory? Let go, L. I’ll catch you.”  
_ _  
“No you won’t.”  
  
“I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“Don’t you?”  
  
“Not at all.”_ the specter drew closer, _“I’m not Kira and I’m not BB.”  
  
_ _“How do you know about that person?”  
  
_ _“I killed him.”_ Imaginary hands remained outstretched, _“Just for you. Somehow I knew how much he hurt you, and the few people you care about. I was designed for you.”  
  
“People aren’t designed for one other.”  
  
“Then explain how flawlessly we fit together.”_

Even in a lucid fever dream L was not prepared for this discussion _.  
_ _  
“I don’t want to talk about this.”  
  
He seemed sad, “Open your eyes."  
_  
He obeyed, welcomes to the wall of screens bowing down at him. Luminescent glass was caving in on him. He hardly overthought but when he did it resulted in this mess. Abruptly standing he muttered an excuse to Watari for his departure. Going up the stairs, riding the elevator, then tumbling into his room on his once shared floor with Light was lost to him as he made a beeline to the dresser once holding the other’s belongings.  
  
Unintentional or not, a button up was left when he moved out. L didn’t want to tell Light about it. Watari never commented or removed the garment. One shirt was a shred of a past too fondly programmed inside L. Crumpling it in his hands he buried his face in it, welcomed by the mimicked embrace of Light. He sank to the floor lying on his side clinging to the damned thing. Too many times in his life had he done drugs, in that breakdown he had taken two pills too many resulting in a horrid fixation. Aside from degradingly calling the person of question back to the building, there were few options to resolve this sickness. A reluctant hand unbuttoned his jeans, reached deeper and got to work.  
  
Throughout the duration of the experience he gripped the shirt like his life depended on it. He pretended that Light were lying with him, touching him, kissing him, caressing him and holding him impossibly tight as he came hard enough to have a moment of peace while white hot pleasure tore through him. Focusing on breathing alone, he stayed on the ground, hating how scratchy the cheap carpeting was. Left in isolation disgusted by the disorder of not only his actions but his person.   
  
When he was younger and discovered masturbation, it was a ritual done everyday an insane amount of times. For years he had noticed a dwelling resolve within him. It would cause irrational anger. Lingering under the surface loomed an unknown aggravation that could not be pinpointed. However, when coaxed by another that L did not wish to dwell on started to show interest beyond a shared love of crime solving, that suppression exploded finalizing an explanation. Usually with his back pressed against that person’s chest, listening to critiques murmured in his ear, he would expel pent up frustrations repeatedly. Eventually he grew shy of having a one-man audience, retreating to his bedroom exploring his body without a watchful eye. At one point he kept himself locked away to solely explore parts of himself forbidden to be considered, exerting himself to exhaustion.  
  
L was nineteen when that experimental day passed, he writhed on the inexpensive carpet of a new space six years later doing the same actions with learned hands. As he reached each orgasm he envisioned Light sitting contently at the chair he favored when he lived here. His arms propped behind his head, or hands at his fictitious crotch, sometimes he’d tower above L to watch. Eventually his body could no longer match the demand, so he opted to stop listening to his breathing climb to a normal rate while the sun rose, saturating the room in beautiful deep blues, purples, reds then eventually calming yellow.  
  
The pills were still firing off in his system, but the exhaustion was more powerful drawing him into a deep sleep that lasted twenty one hours. He awoke at six in the morning the next day, body spent. Dragging himself from the floor using the bed nearby he took time to collect himself, working to figure out what he should do next. Cleaning up sounded correct.  
  
Trudging from the room he stood in the middle of the hallway speaking aloud to the infinite wires lining the foundation of the building, “Watari. I need a bath.”  
  
“I’ll prepare the machine.”  
  
“No. I want an actual bath.”  
  
“Understood.”  
  
Normally he abhorred typical bathing solutions, this hatred ran so deep Watari created a human safe washing machine contraption that allowed his sitting position which yielded higher deductive reasoning. Baths were abominations in L’s mind, dirty basins pulling out all of a body’s impurities to float around in a morbid soup. Showers were no better but preferred, although his tendencies exclusively immersed on the cleanliness of the shower space. Yet, when racked with utter fatigue the bath coupled with all its faults for some odd reason was ideal.  
  
He only sat in the tub for five minutes at a time until the irrationalities would overtake him. After that L would stand under the shower, scrubbing himself down with dish soap then enter the machine. It is padded with state of the art safety measures in place. The cycle is rinse, wash with soap, rinse again then the mechanisms roll to a stop resulting in the final position to be the user on their back to allow for easy exit after the drying setting would blast the bather with air at a precise temperature to push all water off while avoiding injury.  
  
Emerging from the system he stood while Watari presented his uniform to him. In the past, Watari would dress him, but since Light Yagami being chained to him for three months he felt it more respectable to do some tasks on his own. L developed a routine of dressing on his own and even learnt to adapt to the other bathing types because of Light, not climbing into the machine made things simpler, often times they would share a shower always turned away from one another.   
  
Not wanting to hassle with the task force, L took a meal in one of the many kitchens located within the headquarters. Watari had an assortment of small ornate snacks lined up paired with fruit, tea and the supplemental pills. He left then returned with a familiar plastic container, transferring the contents to a plate, “Light Yagami brought this for you.” he sat a fork beside it, “It may be stale, but I felt it proper to at least offer it.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“This development seems to have you strained.”  
  
Not tasting the food L spoke between mouthfuls, “Its a different tactic, I’m having some difficulty being the one having to play this role.”  
  
“A role you do not have to play.”  
  
“Who else could?” He drug the cafeteria cake to him, “It’ll prove the case irregardless of the outcome. Plus…Light Yagami, Kira, doesn’t seem partial with anyone else.”  
  
“Why do you think that is?”  
  
“Because he wants to eliminate me.” he replied sadly, “Or so I thought.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“We had a rather intimate conversation…if it was fake, it was very convincing. There poses the chance that he may not be acting on deviant intent.”  
  
“And if that’s the case?”  
  
L scoffed, “I’ve done too many damning things for justice to be given a man like _him_. Even still, there’s the case, once that’s closed there won’t be a place for Light that would make sense."  
  
“He would be a valuable asset.” Watari suggested, “Near and Mello are suitable successors and occasional consultants but, Light Yagami is already at a caliber of great use. Having him be here permanently would be of immeasurable profit." he paused, “Should this result in the opposing expectations, you are allowed to happiness.”  
  
He almost dropped his fork.  
  
“You’re too ingrained to walk away, I wouldn’t want that for you.” Watari took a seat beside him, the fatherly mask settled firmly, “The world has hurt you. Finding a child in a state of that magnitude was unfair.”

“The world isn’t fair.”  
  
“Yes. And to combat that, you must be fair to yourself.” he placed a very delicate hand to L’s shoulder, “I do not need to say to you that I want your success, happiness and freedom above all else. You are my pride, L.”  
  
“Why are you saying sentiments to me?”  
  
“To let you know that while we do often disregard emotions in these cases, this is an equation that requires emotional intelligence. And I want this to be as prosperous for you as statistically feasible. I’m exposing these vulnerabilities to you so you know you can be vulnerable in return. Irregardless the topic, you can confide to me, discuss with me, in order to ensure your safety.” he gently touched the ends of L’s hair, flashing back to an adolescent L crouched at the Wammy’s House kitchen identical to the adult next to him. For a moment the smaller self of the boy he cherishes returned, closed off, afraid of addition emotion be it his own or another’s. “I’ll be here. You’re not alone.”  
  
L too thought of his youth, the hard first years at Wammy’s House having to relearn that touch did not mean pain. That not everyone is out to hurt him. That the kind old man who pried him from a nightmarish landscape did not want to abuse him or refuse to understand him. Watari was there to hold him when he couldn’t comprehend why he would outburst to tears. He would hold L’s hand to go to the treat shop as rewards, he would look for those kind crinkling eyes sparkling in encouragement as L began to accept hugs from other children and on scarcer occurrences that he would honestly try to include others, they never understood.  
  
Light Yagami understood him, to a frightening degree.    
  
“Thank you, Watari.” he murmured, “This has helped me…accept some things about this situation.”  
  
“I’m happy to hear that.”  
  
They sat there for an hour like they did years ago, side by side, blithely complementing the desserts, tea and one another’s company.  
  
Feeling close to baptized, L returns to the task force lounge as he has come to dub it in his head. Most of the members would lounge about while working, it seems fitting.  
  
Shuffling into the room he’s immediately stuck with Matsuda’s chipper, “Welcome back, Ryuzaki! So how was your other investigation? Get it solved?”  
  
Climbing into his chair he adjusts himself while replying, “Yes, I apologize for my absence. I hope we all got some work done?”  
  
“Sure did!” Matsuda beams, “Light thinks that we may have a way to figure out who the Third Kira is.”  
  
“Does he?”  
  
“Yes,” Aizawa confirms, “We discussed your points of there being a new Kira, and that could be exactly what we have. Although this one does work very similarly to the First Kira, so there is the possibility of him being the original. However, in the past, Kira would openly play games with the task force and police, Third Kira has been extremely safe. He appears to just focus on passing judgement, not making any statements outside of killing off loud hosts on Sakura TV.” He presents a thick stack of files to L, “We have reason to believe that Third Kira may be working to gather numbers of supporters in blatantly discreet ways.”  
  
The papers are lists of individuals attending Kira themed live programming, “Are you suggesting he’s building an army?”  
  
“Of sorts, yes. He is already having the media begin to sway to his favor, what if he’s connected to the media? What if this is his next plot, to avoid hassling with us altogether? Third Kira could be using the public against us, imagine if he rallies people to advocate for us to be disbanded like we talked about earlier? The power of the masses is not to be underestimated, this could pose a serious problem.”  
  
“Especially if he is in the media.” L agrees, paging through the printouts, “Propaganda would be a wise tactic. Very unlike the First Kira, not entirely unexpected of the Second.”  
  
“The Second and Third could be working together?” Soichiro tosses out, “Or as one other theory suggests, the Kira possession might have just switched off to someone else when the shinigami killed Higuchi.”  
  
“Should this be a possibility under serious consideration, I suggest we plant a mole in the media system.” L proposes, “Aiber, will manage the the infiltration, Ide I'd like you to keep tabs on it secondhand. Watari will get in contact with undercover agents to be sent in, you will maintain contact with them and report back any findings. If our theory is looking to be correct, this would aid in leading us to Kira.”  
  
“Of course.” Ide agrees.  
  
“In the meantime, let us pour over these attendees to these Kira programs. I want matches of individuals who participated more than one, are or were employed by news stations, which includes non-news outlets.” L orders, “I will evaluate the taping of all these TV specials.”  
  
The group immediately dives into their work. Their team appeared to be one working unit for the first time in awhile. Everyone devoted their time solely to their tasks at hand, flipping of pages, hushed tones conversing with what connections they have and small meetings disputing confusions. Hours passed, the nagging hunger of needing dinner draws them out of their workplace chasm. They vote Matsuda as the sacrificial errand boy to gather dinner. Grumbling in protest while stomping up the stairs, the sound of clacking loafers directs his attention from the endless stream of sped up footage noticing a vacant seat. Pausing the video he glances at the time, nearly nine at night. Usually Light came to the task force after class, around six a the latest. Doubting suspicion enters his thoughts, curious as to where Light may be spending his time. Was he with someone else? Could he be pursuing a villainous narrative to advance Kira’s agenda?  
  
As if sensing L’s doubts a haggard looking, well haggard by Light’s standards, college student in question briskly ascends down the staircase. His breathing is elevated as he stares up the staircase, eyes unwavering, posture poised as if to strike.  
  
“Something the matter, Light?” Soichiro asks.  
  
“Uhhh.” Light lurches back at the loud pounding coming from the door.  
  
A familiar voice screeches, “Liiiight! Let me inside!”  
  
“Why is she still cleared to enter the building?!” the pursed snaps at the lead detective gaping in amusement.  
  
“Did Misa chase you here?” Aizawa demands.  
  
“I’ve been ignoring her voicemails.” Light grumbles, “So she ambushed me at school.”  
  
“Impressive.” L stands up, “She is certainly dedicated.”  
  
“Obsessed is a more appropriate word.” Light glares, “Why is she allowed here?!”  
  
“Why wouldn’t she be? Matsuda is her fake manager, she’s still being surveyed for investigative purposes, it wasn’t until recently she hasn’t been in here everyday.” L replies, “We can change her status to ‘by appointment only’ if you wish.”  
  
“I wish.” he snaps.  
  
“I can hear you guys!” Misa whines, “Come on! Let me in! Light!”  
  
“Watari, see to that Miss Amane is escorted home.” L addresses the man in question, “Is this the first time she’d one this?”  
  
“No, Ryuzaki, she has made herself present multiple times at Light Yagami’s school.” Watari replies, “I didn’t find it important so it was not reported. Her phone records match up to the previous statement of constant voicemails.”  
  
“I see.” L pushes an index finger into his mouth, entertained by the sounds of Misa putting up a fight with the security personnel, “She does love you, Light.”  
  
“Not love, _obsessed_.” Light sighs, “I told you, it’s always been one-sided.”  
  
“Light.” Soichiro scolds, “You led that poor girl on to this degree?”  
  
“Dad. She led herself on.”  
  
“You certainly didn’t say no, though,” Aizawa adds, “When she’d kiss you and hug you and-”  
  
“I didn’t know the best way to do it. With the case and everything that happened, it was complicated. But anyways, my relationship or lack thereof isn’t the point. Matsuda emailed me an update about the case, we’re taking the media seriously now, huh?”  
  
“Yes.” L retreats back to his seat, Light settles in beside him, “There has been additional elaboration which has led us to believe Kira is connected to the media.”  
“Where are we searching for leads?”  
  
“The Kira based programs on television. I theorize that whoever may be Kira or posses a connection would likely be someone who both attends the programs as well as has a media contact, be that themself or otherwise.” he crawls back into his seat, “I’ve already singled out a few to investigate, as have your father, Mogi and even Matsuda.”  
  
  
“All of these guys seem pretty mundane.” Light remarks paging through the highlighted names, “But I’m surprised at how many of these people meet your criteria for investigation.”  
  
“Yes.” L hums, “I still think this to be a different Kira, a shadow man of sorts. This could all be coincidence, but it’s best to assume that these people could possibly be connected to him in one way or another.”  
  
“Do you really think that Kira is forming some kind of army?”  
  
“It’s not unlikely. His killings have accelerated tenfold why wouldn’t he push for more support? If I were him I would be pooling for what allies I could get. The people here are most likely just filler, what I am hoping to comb out are the direct links to Kira, people who either have contact, know him or could be him.” he sips coffee, “Would you disagree?”  
  
Light scans all of the names, none of them sticking out to be particularly problematic aside from Teru Mikami’s, who was not marked by the damning underlining of L’s highlighter. All he had to see was Mikami’s single presentation at the Kira special he happened to catch purely out of accident to know he could be one of few the act on Light’s behalf. HIs suppressed pride simmers in rejoice to seeing the plan going smoothly. One name that did pose concern was a ‘Kiyomi Takada’ who has been chosen for investigation. She should not be problematic but at least he had pages, he knew her face. How strange that an ex of his out work her way into this investigation.  
  
Shuffling through the papers he wonders if it would be wise to mention his connection to her. How would Light Yagami react? Being the more emotional side of himself, pointing it out seems reasonable, but with having recently broken up with Misa it wouldn’t look or wind up appearing deceitful. Currently, not commenting on it is safest, besides, bringing up another ex when one literally hounded him into the task force building would not bode well for his priority plan, L.  
  
Discussions last late into the night, the dwelling plans to catch a new unknown culprit igniting a new flame into the team, which is refreshing to say the least. The clock ticking on they eventually reach apoint of rest. Matsuda retreats to his housing in the building, Aizawa goes home as does Soichiro, Mogi and Ide decide to go out for a late drink offering invitation to Light who refuses. In a matter of minutes he and L are alone again. Allowing a handful of minutes, Light listens for straggling sounds of someone forgetting keys, a wallet, anything annoying that could disrupt or expose the developing contest of emotions.  
  
Assured they are alone, aside from Watari's unbreakable scrutiny, he shifts in his seat, reaching an arm across the back of L’s chair, “I missed you yesterday.” he sighs, stretching so that his head rests on his own shoulder, careful that his breath reaches L's neck, “You weren't on a case, were you?"  
  
“No.” L indicates, in neither distaste or approval of Light's position, if anything he relaxes, “You know my sleeping habits, I had to rest.”  
  
“Oh.” repositioning, he manages an arm so far around the other's shoulders that his arm dangles off L's shoulder, “Did you dream of me?" he teases, savoring how L’s body recoils benignly. Playfully, he slides away, "You did!”  
  
“Given the development of our…relationship as of late, it isn't all that shocking, Light.” L clicks out of a spreadsheet, “Pardon my bluntness, but I know you’ll keep hounding me until you get a satisfactory answer." he opens another layout of data to scan over, his tone unchanging, “I masturbated for countless hours to the thought of you. Would you consider that dreaming?"  
  
Throughout the duration of their time handcuffed together, Light never once caught or suspected L masturbating, hearing him plainly admit it sounds foreign. He imagines the L he himself has achieved orgasms fabricating imitation scenarios none of which involved how this man would touch himself. Pressure between his thighs pushing gently against trouser fabric certainly give him a wide array of theoretic positions the other could have been in. Ideas wafting through his infinite mind, the sounds surely leaving his tantalizing mouth.  
  
“Did that make you uncomfortable?” is the question that Light realizes of his extended response, aggravated by the vacant coldness of L swiveling to shrug him off, “Understandable if it does.”  
  
"It doesn’t.” reaching out, he pulls L back into his grasp, surveying his apparently blank expression laced with suppressed behaviors. Both of them are reaching their breaking point for physical need, he could cut the tension with a dull knife it is so overwhelming, “I think of you too, L.”  
  
Nonexistent brows perk upwards behind thick inky fringe, a thumb teasingly parts his lips in interest, “…what do you think about?” his voice spilling out in a chilling growl.  
  
“Many things.” he wets his lips, pulling L’s hand from his mouth, placing the finger to his own lips, “I'd rather show you than talk about it."  
  
Flicking his tongue out, he gently teethes the pad of L’s thumb. Twisting the bony hand he achieves a position to have the back of it resting against his palm. Shifting his hold once more Light grip his wrist tightly, sending a message instructing the other to not move. Behind heavy lashes he watches the detective stiffen, observe his chest rise and fall deepening after each breath. Prominent collarbones taunt him beneath clean skin. Already he’s building plan after plan to finally have L submitting to these secret tournaments. Light is approaching a point ofimpatience that boils his blood. The sooner he has the bedroom as an arena to progress the agenda the better.  
  
Exhaling lowly, Light guides a pale wrist to his tongue, tracing obscure patterns, testing the durability by pressing teeth into flesh, excited by the sharp inhale from its owner. Placing a few kisses on the damp skin he opens his mouth wider, guiding the arm upwards in order to allow his tongue to journey downwards. Muttered exhales fall from L's lips, Light noting the small tremors rippling down the arm in his grasp. He watches the other man star to melt into his seat, beginning to unfurl from his usually tense position.  
  
 _‘About time you start warming up to me.’_ Light thinks to himself, confidence rising as he drags his tongue back up, tenderly lowering the limb, maneuvering his fingers to lace with L’s. He enjoys how perfectly their hands fit together, a slender frame molding exactly toknobby one, once more indulging in the softness of L's skin. Kissing his knuckles he flashes the other a warning smile before jerking their entwined hands abruptly together,forcing L to awkwardly fumble out of his chair, hunching over him. 

Large eyes settle onto him as he watches lust climb higher inside, elated at the sight of the other settling on his lap, knobby knees digging into his hips, thin feet folding atop his thighs whilst elegant hands reclaim their power, momentarily alarming Light as they wrap around his throat. Instead of squeezing, the grasp releases to transform into playing with the area, tenderly ghosting designs. As with their hands, their bodies fit well too. Thoughtfulness glazes L’s stare, “What would you like to show me?” he murmurs, “From your..indulgences?”  
  
“Have I earned your trust enough for that?” he straightens his posture, gripping narrow hips between his hands, sweetly massaging the tensing muscle under his grip, “Would you let me or are you going to pull away again?”  
  
“Again?”  
  
“When we last had time together here…” Light wraps an arm around L’s waist, pinning him in place as he roughly demands a kiss, fingertips dig into the other’s body as a moan passes between then at the harshness of the exchange, “…you stopped me.”  
  
“…because I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself if we continued.” he gasps, crushing their lips back together, hungrily diving in repetitively, one hand remains on Light’s throat while the other fists the hair at the nape of his neck, wrenching his head back, forcing eye contact, “I don’t trust myself around you.” he growls, pressing his hips into Light’s own growing erection, “I also do not trust you around me.”  
  
“Then why allow this to happen? You said-” he stiffens at the increased pressure around his neck, “L.” he warns.  
  
“I wont’ hurt you.” he assures him unconvincingly, “Remember when I said I have…odd sexual tastes?”  
  
“…yes.”  
  
“Do you think you can handle them?”  
  
“You’ve probably put me through worse with your investigation alone.” Light taunts, getting a tightened hold paired with a deep, angry kiss.  
  
The gesture leaving him breathless, he hates how upset he finds himself when L’s hand leaves his throat to hold his jaw, “That wasn’t anything in comparison to what I do for enjoyment.” he rasps against Light’s ear, grazing it with his tongue, dragging teeth down the curve, “I don’t know what you have planned for this…new development of ours, and frankly I don’t care. You say you won’t hurt me, but really it’s me you should worry about hurting you.”  
  
Chills sprawl down Light’s spine, _‘There is no way he’s pieced it together already…although I’d have to be stupid to think he isn’t suspicious of me. I’ll gladly submit myself to anything you want, L, either I’ll wear you down to get your name, or to where you’re a servant of Kira. It’s a privilege for you that I’m allowing you this power, enjoy it while it lasts. You’ll be a broken, destroyed shell of what you once were, physically, emotionally, mentally, you’ll belong to a new world one way or another. And by the time you realize it, if you realize this, it’ll be too late to fix anything Kira’s done’  
  
_ He has to drill into his being that this is all for the ultimate ending, the perfect world. Using L physically, destroying him emotionally, mentally manipulating him into something no one would recognize pains the amnesiac still quietly in love with the only person he’s ever found truly worthy of not only his time, but of himself. Thoughts of returning to the that same person are more tempting each time they are together, but it would be too easy. He wants the challenge he needs to kill that part of himself entirely.  
  
“I do mean what I said, I won’t hurt you.” Light places a fragile kiss on challenging lips, “That was intended to be interpreted on an emotional level. However, even if we punish one another sexually, play whatever apparently sick fetishes you claim to have, that still will not change that it’s fake. That you and I can do all we desire, leave all of the cuts, bruises, break bones if that’s what we want, it doesn’t matter. At the end of the list of horrible behaviors I still will have the comfort of knowing that I have not hurt you.”  
  
“How can you be so sure?” L hisses, biting Lights’ lower lip, pacing his tongue along the length of it, “People hurt each other constantly, with or without the intent.”  
  
The breaking piece of him spoke too beautifully, “I love you.” the immediate shock wholly stuns L, he would trade almost anything to take back that profoundly submerged confession. Stagnation engulfs the room just the same as if it were suddenly flooded with cement, immortalizing them in this moment.  
  
‘Fix this, idiot.’ he lashes out at himself, panic raising fast, the desperation threatening an acutely fabricated persona.  
  
“…sorry.” he opts to lean in entirely, may as well purge these trifling emotions. L’s body is practically limp atop him, he layers his hand atop the one holding his own face, “I don’t need to ease into some drawn out comfort with you to tell you this. I don’t want our dynamic to change either. However, I see now that keeping this secret from you was making you even more suspicious of me…and gave you doubts.” he guides their hands to their laps, “I could tell you haven’t trusted me as you have previously. My actions certainly betrayed me, reading deceitfully when I haven’t known how to proceed.”  
  
“…so your strange behavior since Higuchi’s arrest…”  
  
“Was because…” he conjures a nervous noise of a laugh mixed with a sigh, “…seeing the shinigami freaked me out, being in a close proximity to Kira made me worry of losing you."  
  
 _‘No one screams like that for this reason.’_ L retorts internally, _‘You’re a skilled liar, but this confession feels too genuine to be a lie entirely. Perhaps he’s speaking from some source of truth…’_ Watari’s words basically blessing him to be happy echoes doubt, _‘…or maybe I’m overthinking all of this. Who am I to say that Light’s confession isn’t true, but who am I to be a fool enough to believe that without some trace of doubt?’  
  
_ “I would like this to continue.” he resumes, shyly wrapping arms around the man atop him, holding him affectionately, “I couldn’t bring myself to do so without telling you…although i wish it were a little more…”  
  
“Appropriate?”  
  
He shrugs, “Yeah, I suppose so.”  
  
Normally L cannot stand being touched, much less held for this length of time. But Light’s touch, be it an act or otherwise is intoxicatingly comforting. He’s firm yet assuring, lined with a calculation that knows the fine line of balancing these traits effortlessly to combine into the ideal hold. This case has only surprised L with every development, resulting in a situation where he is at odds on what path to take. Opting to finally give into the physical yearning he’s been fighting for far too long, he sinks into Light, resting his forehead against a sturdy shoulder, dizziness swarming his senses from all of the delicious scents swirling his senses, all perfumes unique to the man entirely consuming him. Unsure arms slip into place, as if they were designed to hold onto this person, he listens to the heartbeat pulsing nearby. There was already signs of no return previously, but this felt like the step off the cliff edge.  
  
Burying himself closer to Light he speaks in a way he has not with another previously, “…would it be too much to ask you to stay the night here?”  
  
He drinks in the reverberations of a fond snickering, “Funny you ask that, I was going to inquire about living here again. Break started and I figured it would make more sense to resume residency-”  
  
"For the case.” L finishes.  
  
“Exactly. “  
  
“And it would only make additional sense for us to have the same rooming situation-”  
  
“For the case.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Welcome back.”  
  
Standing up, Light grips L so tightly the man inches up a bit higher than needed as if to escape the claw-like grasp digging into his flesh. He beams up at curious, dark eyes hovering above his own. No more words are required, the innuendos hit all too well, they are both ascending into the awful gamble finally ignited without suppressions to intrude. _  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows that preps with god complexes are fucking bottoms. 
> 
> Light Yagami is a bottom, you cannot change the laws of the universe.

A few weeks ago is not too far back in time depending on the circumstance. To some it would feel like yesterday. Others may say the appropriate time has felt like it passed, but to Light Yagami it was if years had flown by since he took the familiar path up to the floor of the task force building he shared with L. It is informal to say the least to not have six feet of chain linking their wrists. Instead their paces are in perfect unison throughout the journey. Despite having been tangled in each other leaving the task force lounge, L pointed out that few members also inhabit the space. Should they find the leader of the investigation gathered in the arms of his prime suspect, it would be incriminating.  
  
“Incriminating?” ,Light had practically laughed, throwing his arms back around his prey, he had worked too hard to let him go, “ _Incriminating_? Is being with me a _crime_ , L?”  
  
“In a sense, yes.” ,the reminder of L’s strength freed him from the other’s grasp, “Control yourself for a few minutes longer, Light. It’ll be worth it.”  
  
 _‘Control yourself.’_ Two words cycle endlessly to the point of fixating on them an unhealthy amount. _‘Control myself.’_ ,he thinks cruelly, narrowed gaze locked on the hunch of the man’s shoulders in front of him, _‘Control myself.’_ ,he sneers mentally, doing his best to not dwell on how he enjoys the angle of that man’s jaw meeting his neck. In personal confidentiality, he debates if he wants to leave marks on unharmed snowy skin, _‘Control…’_ ,he muses, wondering if the veins in the hand reaching for the doorknob to their previous room always was so veined, _‘…myself._ ’ ,he concludes, excitement crashing into him as the door opens to a dark room, illuminated by the dotting windows of buildings outside the floor to ceiling glass, one way of course.  
  
A few weeks ago if the question were asked, _‘Can you control yourself around L?’_ Light would have been able to answer effortlessly. However, in the small time adamantly slaving to bend the unwavering detective to this point of seduction, all planned, every theory counted for with a countermeasure ready to be instated no matter the cost...that question probably would be unanswered. For finally reaching this goal, everything but victory muddles Light’s thoughts. He would sooner die than admit it, but he’s nervous.

Touching himself he would spend hours pondering how physical or strange their intimacy would go. It was pleasant but also entirely in Light’s control. The L in those half-awake fantasias isn’t the one shutting the door and his fingers aren’t turning the locks. This is not the stage of Light’s imagination adapting to his preferences. This is reality ravenously peering up at him. No longer is he biting bedding to suppress moans imagining scenarios, he’s ultimately experiencing it.  
  
 _‘I’ve worked hard to get here.’_ ,he assures himself, allowing certain parts inside to be unlocked, breaking inhibitions to give the most convincing performance, _‘May as well enjoy myself.’  
  
‘But can you control yourself?’ _That pesky question echoes, small shuffled steps of L closing the proximity between them are annoyingly thunderous, _‘Can you truly control yourself? Are you loosing control by being here? Have you lost more than that by reducing yourself to nothing more than a lying whore for your supposed new world?’  
  
‘Sex is a powerful tool.’_ ,Light reminds the taunting within, _‘Pair that with my intellect, I’m unstoppable. I’ll have L manipulated from every possible angle. If anything this is all a grand example of control. It’s up to me how much I let happen, it was I who initiated this. It is all according to the plan, just because my body is what aided in the destruction of my greatest rival doesn’t belittle the victory.’_

He shivers as L’s fingers slide up his jaw then wrap around his neck, tenderly drawing him close for a deep, pressed kiss. His tongue wantonly against Light’s, teasing him, _‘I made the deliberate choice to be here, it is L who has lost control. He cannot contain himself around me.’  
  
_ Opening his mouth wider Light reaches out to sharp hips. He slips underneath the ill-fitting shirt to drag his nails up skin and thumb already hardened nipples. A stifled gasp blooms into Light’s breath as he leans forward in the kiss, catching the tongue fighting back between his teeth. Roughly throwing his hold from the current task he impulsively breaks their kiss to tear off the man’s shirt, who puts up an initial resistance over the matter. He stops momentarily, something demanding to savor the unfurling actions. Taking time to appreciate L’s impossibly slender frame, the shadows falling on his waif limbs nestling into protruding creases. He wants to explore every space that darkness rests in. Only he is allowed to be this close to this person, surely he is the only one who could pleasure him efficiently. Light advances, his hands catching the small waist, using it to pin his opponent in place. Long fingers rest in brown hair to curl it into tangles as Light’s lips bite into the neck that taunted him on the walk up to this room. He teethes the skin, suckling at sites that procure rather beautiful groans mildly surprised that he isn’t stopped from his handiwork. Pulling away he drops his hold to the man's backside, gathering all that there is to offer in his hands getting a glorious view of painful bites bruising L’s jaw and upper neck.  
  
Gripping wiry biceps, he shoves L further into the wall, hurriedly breathing in his ear. He presses himself harder into the other when his body arches in reaction to the kisses leading down his torso. Moaning, he relaxes his jaw to be slack, tilting his gaze to lock onto dangerous eyes. As if to defy him he tauntingly rubs on the hardness testing the zipper of the man's jeans.  
  
L clears his throat, words terribly soft, “…from my research on you…you seem to be inexperienced…don’t feel obligated to-”  
  
Rage flares in Light’s features as he unforgivingly grasps L’s entirety in his hand. Abruptly standing up he uses his other hand to practically punch him back into place. A startled grunted moan bursts from L’s mouth, a hand keeping him still by covering it, “You researched my sex life?”  
  
He didn’t need to talk to answer.  
  
“What did you investigate? You only know what I’ve done with Misa, which isn’t much. And with you...which also, not much. However…” he changes his position, throwing L to the ground to promptly straddle him, working to tear his jeans off, “…you didn’t so much as know who I was in high school.” ,he recalls the experimental time of his life; he turned sixteen and figured it was time to go all out to explore and experience anything that came to his or his friend’s minds.  
  
To say that he is capable of giving L a blowjob is an understatement. Having left the underwear on he is pleased to see pre-cum already starting to soak through the material. He rubs the outlined length, nervousness of performing such an act on the only person that is a real equal, a real threat burns at his stomach. Leaning forward to bite the band of the garment concealing his reward, Light takes his time to expose L’s length eventually showing the man’s embarrassing eagerness. Exhaling against the member he lays his tongue at the head, grinning at the violent reaction. Both of L’s hands lash into his own hair for something to grasp. His body trembles as the wetness against his hardness lowers to briefly lap at the skin below. Light’s hand replaces his mouth in that area while he resumes the maddening, unhurried pace of pleasuring. At his head again, he traces the perimeter, thicker than anticipated, enjoying the display laying out in front of him. What a wonderful sight, seeing this powerful man loosing himself.   
  
“Don’t worry, L.” he taunts, squeezing the man’s sack tighter than intended, but the blissful whimper indicates a raised bar, “I’m more than confidant in my abilities to please you. Wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
A pathetic sob replies as he abruptly takes L entirely. Sucking ruthlessly, his fingers working diligently to overstimulate. Bobbing his head he doesn’t bother building the pace, the way hips already are involuntarily thrusting into his movements let him know that he doesn’t have much time to play with his adversary. Unfortunate, but he cannot fault L for his own endurance is up for debate, already being painfully hard.  
  
The sensation of Light’s mouth on him is mind-numbingly catastrophic. L’s hands twist painfully in his own hair as he twitches about, desperate to fuck the mouth between his hips. He wants to throw himself deeper into disgusting lips. Sheer cordial conditioning keeps his hips on the floor as that treacherous tongue slips, dodges and slides into the right areas to nearly send him over. His breathing climbs higher as the other works faster, he starts to thrust more, trusting that Light will do something to indicate if it’s not appropriate. Wanting to watch Light suck his cock, he fights to prop himself up on one arm. He then leans on an elbow to fist the hair hiding that immaculate face from view. Spreading his legs wider, he gains a better picture of a seemingly perfect man enjoying himself. God, he’s stunning, a well formed long face, full eyelashes, a deep honeyed gaze drowning in lust as he simpers around L’s erection, shifting his position, his hand leaving the secondary area to tend to his own arousal, pulling it from his trousers. Extending a leg, L is able to reach the other’s member with his foot, rubbing the length a considerable amount, enough to draw Light’s attention elsewhere. L increases the pace. He shivers with immense excitement as Light removes his mouth to hastily suck on his own fingers, coating them to his satisfaction to start circling L’s entrance. Ragged gasps rip throughout the detective as he struggles to preserve his observation of Light’s pretty mouth back on his throbbing dick. It doesn’t take much longer until L’s head is thrown back in pleasure, his grip tangled in Light’s hair threatening to tear the handful out. His body is erratic, he’s unsure if his foot is still tending to his partner’s own erection but he doesn’t care; his own need is more important. White hot pleasure pathetically shreds him as he climaxes, inexorably unaware of what sounds, words or movements he may or may not be performing. There is only the intoxicating euphoria erupting throughout his entire being. Gradually surroundings return as he comes down from the high to see the smug expression of Light Yagami bearing down at him. The tendons of his throat tense then relax, a little sigh sounds as if refreshed from what he undoubtedly consumed.  
  
 _‘What a piece of work you are.’_ L criticizes bitterly, impatiently waiting for his stamina to return enough to go through with his building schemes. _'You think you may have the upper hand here, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. While this may all be in vain, I’m prepared to indulge in these pent up, aggravating human needs with you. In all honesty, I don't think these feelings could belong to anyone but you.’_ The moroseness settles in as he wraps a hand around the nape of Light’s neck, placing a delicate kiss to his lips, the sentiment that of a goodbye. _‘You may have his face, his scent, his voice, but I can still see in those eyes of yours that he is indeed gone. But on occasion there are glimpses of who I think Light Yagami is, I wonder if I can pull that person back…how foolish of me.’_  
  
“What?” Light whispers, fingers ghosting L’s face as he sweetly brushes wild, inky hair away to see fighting emotions grappling the man’s expression, “Don’t tell me I wasn’t up to your stan-”  
  
 _‘Please, just shut up.’_ Not wanting to discuss his inner turmoil, L shifts into Light’s arms, crushing their lips together. His teeth urgently scrape at the lower lip. One hand grips the hair at the back of Light’s head forcing it back to expose his neck. To return the favor he attacks with a vengeance, grinding his already reinstating erection onto the exposed one below him.  
  
“Whoa. Okay, we can’t both have hickies…”  
  
L is relentless, his feverish kissing drawing a moan.  
  
“It's going to look suspicious…I…”  
  
His shirt is gone. A furious mouth against one of his nipples while hands work to remove the remainder of his clothing.  
  
“Slow down…don’t you want to take your…oh fu..ck.”  
  
Attempting to render the commentary mute, L expertly grabs the other’s member. His tongue lapping against his ear, grazing the outer shell to next nibble on the lobe. To further a point, he leaves another dark reminder that his mouth was against Light’s neck and collarbone.  
  
“Seriously!” he rasps, hips moving with the hand at his crotch, “L, _please_! You’re going to spell this out to the entire task force. I was under the impression you wanted to keep thi-”The argument receives a painful joining of their lips, L keeps his face in place with a grip threatening to crush the younger man’s lower mandible.  
  
“Despite this being our first time fucking, I’m not afraid to gag you to stop your incessant nagging.”  
  
“ _Nagging_?”  
  
“Would you like the country of origin? Are you going to further annoy me by spelling it out?” he gradually stands, luring Light to his feet by maintaining his hold. His other hand forces Light onto the bed, lying him down and climbing atop him. A moment of silence settles between them, L soaks in all of the minuscule details of the man under him. He memorizes the messy hair, slanted eyes moistening with lust, freshly plumped lips from unholy deeds teases a line of perfect teeth gleaming in the dimness. His body is the more muscular between them but is still soft with muscles lingering from years of sportsmanship. L likes how prominent Light's collarbone is and the curve of where his chin meets his jaw. The urge to kiss it rises, he smiles crudely, “Are you going to be quiet?”  
  
“…which would entertain you more? My admitting that I want you to…do that to me or my continuation of ‘annoying you’ to get what I want?”  
  
“I like the noises you make. I’d prefer your mouth vacant.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
"For this time, at least." he finishes, caressing that jaw he kisses him again. Using his tongue he parts Light's lips to lull out the other's tongue to leisurely lick at it. Light relaxes into the oddity, surprised at how arousing the sensation is. His hands move from lying at his side to play with L’s hair and rest across broad, bony shoulders. Moaning into the motions he encourages the pace to quicken, rolling his hips up to restart the friction. A slimmer pelvis responds, matching his pace. Their position abruptly changes, L on his side next to Light, a hand pumping both their members as their lips continue melting and battling one another.  
  
Light allows him to explore his mouth, his head becoming dizzy from the pleasure at his groin. The serpentine tongue abusing his mouth and the perfume of L’s natural scents, cologne, even his sweat smells incredible. He despises how quickly he’s undoing for this man, trembling at commanding hands now moving his body to his knees. Chills cover his entirety as a hand tilts his head back just to scrape shallow nails on his skin. Remembering the comment of L liking his sounds, he allows himself to let out the worst noise of his life, a pleasured simpering whine as he’s turned onto his back and lifted upwards, thighs tightly grasped in capable hands while a devious tongue prods his entrance.  
  
This was a new experience for him. Although he had indulged in many curiosities in his time hidden with a few friends, this was never on the table. It was something he has wished to do to another, but had yet to find someone worthy of a debatably disgusting act. He's envious that L demands the upper hand, but wasn’t at all displeased in being at the whims of this man. Watching L bury himself further, he drinks in the sight of a detailed hand move from a thigh to start pumping his member. He curses L's name as Light sinks back into the bed, the attention to his cock paired with the sins of that man’s tongue sending him into complete submission. Of course he locates his spot within what felt like a matter of seconds, already igniting his destruction. Hips needfully move with the long strokes between his legs. His back arches into the delectable pleasured wetness of L more than enjoying himself judging by the man’s own muffled appreciation. His climax is close, the other can tell and rudely brings him to his knees again, three fingers are impertinently between his teeth. Slack-jawed and muttering moans he suckles as if he’s starved, excitement swelling as he feels L leave the bed whilst keeping his mouth occupied.  
  
He focuses on the assignment in his mouth as he listens to the detective singlehandedly rummage through the nightstand. The thud of lubricant hitting the bed delights him. A gentle crinkling of foil entrances him. A hasty spitting of pinched packing once between L's lips taunts him. And finally hearing the soft protest of the bed welcoming the other man back rattles him with avidity. Fingers are reclaimed, Light forms his mouth to ensure they leave with a loud pop. L shifts to where his knees are on either side of Light’s head, the devious gleam in his eyes is instruction enough. Together they work to please one another, Light’s mouth sucking dutifully, moaning around the throbbing member belonging to the man torturously stretching him out at an insensitively sedated pace.   
  
Panting around the cock in his mouth he turns his head to gasp, “Fuck me already.”  
  
Dark eyes peer from behind a cool shoulder, “…what did I say about talking?”  
  
“Please.” he no longer has the ability to fight back, he wants L so badly its excruciating, “I’m begging.”  
  
“About time.” he grumbles, a perverted smirk lining his lips as he slides off Light, “On your knees.”  
  
"Make me." he teases, getting a moderate kick to the ribs.  
  
Of course he gets harder from that.  
  
The reaction is noticed, shaking hands start to roll the condom.The attention to his throbbing member renders him breathless and agitated. Between practiced inhales he sighs out, “Really, I cannot wait to play with you Light.", it's finally on, "I’m glad my intuition is right."  
  
"About?"  
  
"You being into masochistic things. Things I enjoy.”  
  
Shyness creeps into him as L returns to the bed. While sturdy hands guide his hips into place he plays with imaginings of how revolting the sexual chemistry between the two of them could become. In all fairness, he was warned that L claims to be intense, but the way he said ‘ _masochistic_ ’...he didn't' know a word could be said in a way that it held infinite variant meanings. The internal dwelling is cut off by the pressure of the other entering him with a tenderness allowing relaxation to the best of his ability. With a few gentle thrusts he works his way inside, their moans differing between easing from discomfort to pleasure with immense discipline unlocking to utter insanity.  
  
Their bodies entwined the thrusting increases as does the clenching grip L has on Light’s hips, which will surely have purple imprints after this is over. Light doesn't mind, he enjoys the roughness of the pace, pushing himself against the other’s cock, relishing in the the deep, guttural groans trickling from the L's lips. Groans melt into moans that morph into demanding whispering as he crumples atop Light, hot breaths evaporating against the neck he wrecked.  
  
"Come." he snarls, sharp teeth testing the durability of the skin over Lights' ear, “Come."  
  
As if his body is programmed to do as L demands, his rising pleasure peaks to a collapsing ejaculation, demolishing all muscles in his body as they tense, shiver and nearly vibrate against the disorientating orgasm wholly consuming him. In a blurring landscape he hangs onto the melody of L murmuring, "Light." as he finishes.  
  
He misses the fullness of L in him as he pulls out. Knowing it's over, he relaxes to the stumbling feet dragging to the bathroom, water running to hide the mumbled disgust while the other cleans himself. Yes, Light feels filthy to the utmost degree but the mess made of him is something he wants to bask in for a little longer, it's a sick trophy to feel the phantom sensations of what transpired. While others may feel insulted by L's need to bathe after sex, Light is comforted by the soundtrack of the shower from the clearing of L's throat to the ruffling of towel on skin. The mental image of him desperately unable to grapple with the reality of their togetherness only able to physically clean himself enthralls Light.  
  
 _‘Bathe all you like, L.'_ He thinks venomously, _‘You're not going to rid yourself of me. No matter how much you try. We're too far gone now.’  
  
_ “Light.” he calls, "If you could bathe as well, I'd rather not share a bed with someone still covered in such substances.”    
  
How tedious.   
  
Obliging the other’s particularities Light had his own stipulations. He went about stealing one too many kisses while bathing himself, resulting in the pair learning why shower sex is better in movies and professional adult film sets. However, by the third round, they got the hang of it and learnt the value of a once useless hand rail. On the sixth round they were on the bathroom floor, but L’s fixation of cleanliness brought them back into the shower, which unsighted incidents seven through nine. The eighth truly tested Light’s stamina but had a surge of enthusiasm for the ninth turn when L unearthed an unused shower rod, using it for nefarious purposes. That experience not only showcased the man's creativity but gave Light a better picture of his apparent sexual appetite. Wearily ready for a tenth go at one another, they somehow mutually opted for a truce so they could finally shower. This was not without a masturbation show for one another.  
  
Hot, lightheaded and acting without logic, L was halfway back into the shower when Lightshowed enough restraint for the both of them. He keeps him at a leg’s length, clinging to the shampoo shelf for stability, “Do us a favor and get us something cold to drink. I’m going to pass out of dehydration or heat exhaustion if we keep this up.”  
  
“You could always have a cold shower.”  
  
“I plan to, but that’s proving pointless with you crawling back in here to make us both dirty again. You’re clean, I’m exhausted and we still have to make ourselves present with the task force tomorrow.”  
  
“Technically, that’s today.”  
  
“Great.” he lowers his leg, “What time is it?”  
  
“Not sure. It was about midnight when we got up here.”  
  
“It’s probably close to five or six in the morning.”  
  
“Probably.” L shrugs on a robe he had stored in the bathroom during their time together, it smells like the past, its comforting, “I’ll get your drink. Water?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Want any food?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What, what?”  
  
“Do you want?”  
  
“I’m hurt, you don’t remember what I like from being handcuffed together?”  
  
He towels off his hair, “I do. Was just seeing if you had a preference.”  
  
“Thanks.” he shoots him a fond smirk through the shower’s glass.  
  
L nods in reply then heads to the kitchen on the floor, empty. He makes a mental note to let Watari know to keep it stocked for Light’s full time return to the task force building. The next nearest fridge is the one on the floor two below this one. Unfortunately it is the one that other members inhabit. _‘I could just ask Watari to get it.’_ he muses, already shuffling to the elevator, _‘But for some reason I want to be the one to do this…it feels more…intimate?’_ This is a dangerous area he’s treading, he wants people to be as far away from these games as possible, but also there thrives apart of him that is entirely gluttonous of the indulgences of finally having Light’s body at his disposal. He likes throwing himself into pent up longing, he’s already anticipating their next intercourse session. It’s proven more therapeutic than intended, being able to hit him, pound into him, claw into him as if to yell through action that he knows, that he’s angry and that he’s demanding that person from before surrender the Kira facade. And by a horrible blessing in the most secret moments he got that person. No need to become hopeful, there’s a fifty percent possibility of his death, of this newfound partner to be the worst murderer he’s faced yet, however there is a fifty percent chance of happiness. _‘Prepare for the worst, hope for the best at this point.’_ he supposes. _  
  
_Reaching his destination he goes about rummaging through the fridge piling packaged sweets in his arms, not caring who they belonged to. Spotting tamagoyaki and an unopened potato salad he selects those for Light. Teetering a water bottle atop his gathered tower brings upon his defeat, the stolen groceries clattering to the floor. He stares at the mistake for a moment debating the ideal method of transport for the much needed sustenance. An answer presents itself in the form of a to-go bag on the counter with Matsuda’s name scrawled on it. Emptying the contents in the refrigerator he repurposes the bag for the prioritized items.  
  
Mission complete, he stands only to get a hankering for fruit. Peering into the kitchen appliance he sees disappointment in the form of a single apple that is tempting the end of its sell by date. Reluctantly, he adds it to his bag. Shutting the fridge he’s greeted by the gawking gaze of the owner of the stolen bag swaddled in a pilling robe.   
  
“Ryuzaki?” he balks, L is impressed that his voice remains fairly quiet, “What are you…” his eyes flicker, taking in information, slowly no doubt, but not slow enough for L to shift his stance to hide the evidence on his neck which only worsened in the shower, trailing down to his collarbone and chest.  
  
“Whoa!” he chuckles, “Don’t tell me…”, he's too thrilled by this, “A woman? Did you hire a hooker?",an enigmatic gasp, "Do you have a girlfriend?!”  
  
L betrays nothing.  
  
“...a man? A man hooker?”, he snaps his fingers, " A boyfriend!"  
  
Not a thing.  
  
“Whichever is pretty crazy! No offense, Ryuzaki, but you totally don’t seem like the type to…”  
  
“Have sex?”  
  
“Y-yeah.”  
  
He's used to this response, he knows he looks like a cryptic virgin madman. However, L is confused by the blush dusting Matsuda’s cheeks, he isn't’ the one caught nor is he having an unwitting guessing game be slung at him. L decides to resume his errand, surely Light is out of the shower by now, with any luck he’s in a suggestive position on the bed. Walking out of the kitchen space he stops beside his co-worker, locking eyes so intensely Matsuda fears involuntary urination.  
  
The words that follow are comparable to a divine commandment:  
  
“No one will believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is like four to five pages of smut in my not word apple word document. It's been so long since I've written shit like this I hope it reads well!
> 
> Also I'm living for poor Matsu, he's going to drive himself crazy trying to think of who L fucked, or who fucked L. Knowing his baby brain he'll catch Light's hickies and be like, 'Whoa! Light and L had sex the same time, fucking wild man." before he would consider that perhaps they gave themselves the love bites~
> 
> A lovely reader mentioned Matsu POV and I have a mighty need, expect a Matsu insert probably next chapter because I love him so much oh my god I get so emotional when Matsuda is involved okay?? I simp for Soichiro and would stab a man for Matsu~
> 
> Anyways thank you for reading, your guys' comments/critiques/reviews seriously motivate me to write this. With your motivation and my current obsession with Death Note, we may shit this fic out in a timely manner?? A finished ficccc?? Holy fuck I haven't done that since high school, let's not get our hopes up lads...
> 
> ...unless~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICPO meeting, fancy clothes for Mr. Yagami & a writer that honestly has no idea what has happened with the plot but yeehaw am I here for it baybeee

He awoke alone.  
  
It did send any indications of forlorn pain, but instead a rippling denial. Tired eyes gradually processed too familiar walls and bedding that alined with a forgotten dream-state. Whispered sensations of pleasantly aggressive fingers around his wrists, ankles, arms, legs, any part of him that could be gripped fought to affirm if it was another concocted fantasy or reality. Sitting up he was certain that it had all transpired why else would he be in this room with these sensations? And when he freshened up in a destroyed bathroom forced to evaluate furious bruises down his neck, collarbone, chest, even his inner thighs, this was the assurance he needed.  
  
Pride trickled inside as his phone rang.  
  
It was answered on the sixth ring with a hoarse, “Hello?” his throat sore from vocalizing pleasure into the late morning.   
  
“You’re awake.” ,that dark voice stated.  
  
“I didn’t know surveillance was mobil.”  
  
“Your deductive skills astound me.” ,he commended dully, “Do you remember what I told you this morning?”  
  
He smirked, “Slow down or I’ll-”  
  
“This call is monitored, just so you know.”  
  
“Everything we do is monitored.”  
  
A sigh.  
  
He sits on the edge of the bed, visions of a stagnant Watari standing at the foot of it returned. The stalemate stare between them was a silent contracted agreement to not comment on the state of nudity. In retrospect, he isn't sure if either blinked while their mutual interest fumbled to dress himself while explaining that he had to attend the ICPO meeting, 'somewhat in person.' He had grumbled thumbing his eye to wipe the second of sleep he got between their frightful intercourse sessions.  
  
“The task force has been informed, we’re going with the agreement of not using the notebook, although I’m still going to push for the ability to test the thirteen day rule…”  
  
“I remember.” he replied to the man on the phone, “Why are you calling? I doubt it’s to test my memory.”  
  
“You’re correct. It’s to let you know that I need you to head the investigation with your father in my absence.”  
  
“Absence?”  
  
“Yes, I have some matters to attend to, I should be back in a few days.”  
  
It was disgusting. He had a sickening weight pressing into his stomach at the thought of not having the person on the other end of the phone back in his arms tonight. _‘No, this is better.'_ ,he mentally corrected himself, _'It gives me a window of opportunity to further my own agenda.’  
  
_ “I understand. Travel safely, alright?”  
  
“That’s...not entirely in my control.” ,he muttered, the way he breathed indicated the ending of the call but a sharp inhale brought the conversation back to life, “One more thing. I wanted to have this conversation in person but it can’t be helped. Due to our…developed partnership on this case, you will be put under additional surveillance. Your phone will be heavily monitored, tracked, that sort of thing. With methods I’d rather not disclose to you, Watari will always have an idea of where you are, just so you are aware.”  
  
“Your suspicion of me knows no bounds.” ,he spat dryly, “I’m not expecting special treatment after what’s happened, but this is ridiculous. If you honestly think me to be a suspect again the least you could do is run this intensive surveillance by the-”  
  
“Let me _correct_ _you_.” ,the harshness in his tone able to freeze anyone who listened, “This is what is done to anyone who becomes intimate with me, for both our safety. The likelihood of someone uncovering our relationship, if we want to be so bold as to call it that, is slim. However, should someone wish to use you against me, or otherwise, this is necessary for multiple levels of security outside of the case _or_ my consideration of you as the culprit of the Kira Case. Do we understand one another?”  
  
For a split second he was flattered to have been appraised as close enough to warrant this level of personal security. But, that would be too genuine for the world’s greatest detective. _‘How thoughtful of you…’_ ,he cruelly mused, _‘I should’ve figured you would have your countermeasures for exploiting our intimacy just as I am with you. Well played, thank you for keeping this interesting.’  
  
_Forcing a gentle laugh he sighed, feigning lovesickness, “I’m sorry…but in my defense you’ve been ruthless in the past I assumed the worst. I also might be a bit…aggravated.”  
  
“About?”  
  
“You.”  
  
“Me.”  
  
“Not being here this morning. You’re sending mixed signals with this...announcement.”  
  
The pause on the other end authentically thrilled him to think that perhaps something emotional had been stirred in that man.  
  
“Are you still there?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Okay, well I need to get ready I’m sure the task force is already downstairs.”  
  
“They are.”  
  
“I better hurry then.”  
  
A hummed agreement, “…Light…I would like to take this time to also let you know that I don’t plan to let this hinder our-”  
  
He produced another perfected laugh, curbing it to a flirted murmur, “You’re here thinking me foolish, but you’re painting yourself the real fool assuming I’m so infatuated.” ,he grinned into the receiver, “You’re cute, L.”  
  
“This is a monitored-”  
  
“Then let that thought be on record.” ,he retorted, “On that note, we can save this talk outside of work calls. Is there anything else I should know? I assume we will be on call with you during the ICPO meeting?”  
  
“…yes. And no, there is no further information I need to give you regarding the case for today.”  
  
“Very well.”  
  
“Feel free to reach out if you require anything else. You have my personal number.”  
  
“Understood. I’ll hear you on the conference later.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He was going to get in one more quip but was cut off by the dial tone.  
  
 _‘Fair enough, I shouldn’t push it too far. I don’t want him thinking me obnoxious but…I’ll admit being able to harass him like this is pretty damn fun.’  
  
_When he entered the bathroom again to bathe for what felt like the millionth time, he found a surprise he hadn’t noticed on his first entrance- a stark black bag holding a collection of concealer and foundation in a variety of shades. Light wasn’t entirely taken back by this, half figuring L’s sudden interest in ‘having to attend the ICPO meeting’ had something to do with him needing time to heal his evidence. In the past he never really needed makeup to hide such things, but opted to keep the supplies around for a later date should it be required. During his time showering he agreed for his usual turtleneck to remedy these marks. But as he stepped out into the bedroom, he was hit with the realization of not having his wardrobe at his disposal. Searching the room he became painfully aware that his clothing wasn't anywhere. Panic began to rise as he wrenched the closet open to discover it was fully stocked. One half hung garments matching styles he had previously worn from v-neck sweaters, the coveted turtleneck and oxfords. Below that he eyed expertly folded slacks and jeans all in hues he frequented. On the other side was a line of identical white long sleeved shirts below that neatly stacked jeans. There was even a selection of shoes on his allotted side.  
  
_‘You certainly have assumed us roommates.’_ he mentally noted while selecting a dark brown turtleneck with charcoal grey trousers, both still had their tags on and smelled of the store. A shout was stifled when he eyed the prices. _‘That’s certainly one way to make a power move…is he trying to say something with these or is this just Watari’s tastes and budget? No matter…but certainly something I may also push my limits with in the future.’_

The clothing fit perfectly and it felt high quality, which he had anticipated from previous inspection. Between the shower, oddly comforting phone call and new attire he didn't feel like he only had gotten an hour of sleep. Light was painfully awake, his internal pondering clouded in predicting where this new development would lead. How he should act, how L might expect him to act. Remembering the comment of _'those who get intimate with me'_ would not leave his thoughts to the point of questioning any further plans were futile.   
  
Thoughts of L’s past plagues upon Light that morning waiting for the ICPO meeting to begin. Perfectly poised at his workstation, he's dutifully preparing the Yotsuba Case findings, half of his mind rattling with the curiosities of who L might have previously had intercourse with. Surely that wasn't his first time, with a man anyways. Judging by how expertly the man gave blowjobs, rim jobs, gargled his balls, worshipped Light’s inner thighs and tenderly traced the shape of his face with delightfully soft lips, it was clear he had either done all of that with someone else or was very researched on what to do. When Misa was more involved with the investigation, L had voiced some form of interest in her. Light had even caught one too many Misa Amane paraphernalia in their shared room in a hidden bin at the back of the closet. There was no doubt that he would never have had the chance to do anything with Misa without Light knowing about it, they were handcuffed, yet L had still smuggled the fan materials, not only that but he hid them. Light only found them searching for a mismatched shoe. In theory they could’ve done something, but he knew better than anyone that Misa would sooner swear off men than humor any of the detective’s inclinations.  
  
_‘Am I really so far gone already that I’m becoming jealous of Misa with L?’ ,_ he snarls at himself, _‘Ridiculous. Even if they did, I don’t care about either of them. Why would I care about who L’s slept with? All I need to care about is that it’s me in his bed and how I can maintain that momentum for the plan. I’m going to bend him to the new world or kill him, there is no room for these trivial skepticisms.’_ ,he settles against a pressed knuckle to his chin as he scans the brief written by his father, not listening to what he is saying at all, _‘Wait…what if I could use this to my advantage. I’ll call it ‘love’ for now, makes people do some outrageous things, surely I would be no exception, even to him…would it be so outlandish to contact Misa on the guise of wondering if she and Ryuzaki had an affair of sorts when he and I are sleeping together or would it be too suspicions? She is his prime suspect for now but also my ex…and while using that as a scapegoat for contact it will only last so long. I doubt L has or will have any feelings for me but I wouldn't put it past him to try to cut off my contact with her altogether under the guise of our newfound…relationship. That leaves a very narrow window to establish a better contact with Mikami. He’s doing well but it will only take L so long to find him I need someone for the task force to chase or at the very least I need him to lay a labyrinth of leads in the theorized media army. That should draw things out long enough to get L fairly worn down at the rate him and I are progressing. Only one night together and I’m worn out…it’s terrifying how relentless he is.’  
  
_“…ready?” ,the finishing word of his father’s sentence stabs into his dwelling. Concern pulls Soichiro’s features, “Light, are you feeling well?”  
  
Forcing himself from the rant he rubs at his temple, “I’m fine, it’s just a bit overwhelming.”  
  
A hearty hand clasps his shoulder, giving it a reaffirming squeeze, “You’ve more than exceeded any expectations I could’ve had for you throughout this case. You’ll be fine. Besides, Ryuzaki is the one presenting the case and evidence, we will remotely be on standby to confirm anything that needs additional elaboration.”  
  
“Yeah, Light!" Matsuda chirps, “These meetings are super easy. Mostly it’s just stuffy leaders fussing until Ryuzaki puts them all in their place.”  
  
“Matsuda.” Aizawa grumbles, “You’ve only been to one meeting. Ever.”  
  
“Still makes me an ICPO meeting veteran!” he boasts, “Oh, before I forget, Light, you wanna cash in on that bro night?”  
  
“Save your socializing for later and secure the connections for the call.” Aizawa chides, Light mutely thanks him for peeling Matsuda away.  
  
“Do any of you know why Ryuzaki has to be there in person?” Light inquires once the call is secured, they all crowd the largest screen at the wall of monitors, “I find it odd. Isn’t that the purpose of Watari, to be places as a physical placeholder for these instances?”  
  
“It does seem weird.” Matsuda agrees, “Maybe he needs some private time…to you know...sneak away...spend time...alone...or not alone...with..”  
  
Ide raises an invisible brow while Aizawa furrows his.  
  
"I don't even want to humor what you're implying." Aizawa concludes blandly.   
  
“The notebook has to be presented to the ICPO.” Soichiro answers swiftly, knowing when to stop a potential fight brewing, “L will only be within the vicinity in the event that he is needed for some form of emergency. He didn’t specify as to what that would be, but that all would be well should it come to that.”  
  
They all murmur some sort of additional inquiry, their wonderings cut off by the crackling of the call beginning. Stiff voices project formalities of swearing in promising to not disclose the discussions held at the meeting outside of permitted personnel. They too swore themselves in.  
  
While the task force is cozied safely in the assigned tower, the head of the investigation sits uncomfortably within the building housing the meeting. His self soothing is on an endless loop of toe twirling as he gnaws on a nonexistent thumbnail. The countless hours spent with Light proving to be more distracting than ever calculated. Truthfully speaking, he is exhausted in every sense of the word, but the whirring excitement of presenting a case kept him adept to the task at hand. He deepens his posture, resting his chin on his knee in a vain attempt to enhance deductive ability, but all it does is welcome more perverse ideas of what he could do to his prime suspect the second he stepped foot in Japan again.  
  
 _‘Being apart from him is worse than by his side.’_ ,he curses, _'Maybe I should have brought him with me...it would make sense to have him and Chief Yagami here. No one would think twice...no. The last thing I need is Kira roaming these halls.'_ Relief sweeps through him at the sound of Watari entering the room with one of the ICPO leaders, a man he’s had the unfortunate pleasure revealing himself to one time too many.  
  
Regulation greetings pass between the three of them. L keeps his back to the man, that was always their agreement especially given the sensitivity of the Kira Case.  
  
“I’ll get right to it.” the man declares, voice a bit unsteady, “We plan to allow your experiment.”  
  
Confidence swells in his chest, but he braces for the next string of words.  
  
“But…this allowance is exclusively between the highest powers.”  
 _  
‘There it is.’_  
  
“The rich families and their secret societies…yes of course.” ,L finishes crudely, “I figured they would permit this to only further their own gains. What agendas are going to hinder this investigation?"  
  
"What gives you the impression that-“  
  
“Every case I’ve led that has fallen in the crossfires of the monetary trivialities of _those_ people are always those leads us to this room. I know whom you speak on behalf of and why I must be here without wires to have these conversations. We have known that for years, sir. Now, the meeting is due to begin shortly. Our absences will not go unnoticed. I can tell whatever it is has disturbed you greatly otherwise we wouldn't be here. So let me deal the finishing blow to myself so to speak.” ,the bite on his thumb increases in pressure, “The people who are my biggest annoyances want the notebook for their own interest should the rules in question be proven true, correct?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And if the theorized false rules are void of their power, those people plan to deepen their already bottomless pockets at the notebook’s and justice’s expense?”  
  
“…yes.”  
  
“Disappointing. But not surprising.” ,he despises to stooping to such a low level, a place on par with Kira himself, “You’re here because you do not agree with whatever benevolent plans they surely have?”  
  
“…I am.”  
  
“Then you know what must be done.” ,he spits out a shred of nail, “Ensure that no one else touches the notebook to their knowledge, this falls in line with painting the rules are true. We will have the plan be the selected inmate write the name of another on death row’s name in the notebook. Be sure it’s a humane death specified, something like ‘Inmate passes in sleep, peacefully without pain.’ Then that inmate must also die on the fourteenth day. I will write their name with the same curtesy given to the first.”  
  
“You are that certain that those rules are false?”  
  
“As are you if we are having this conversation. If you wish my life can still be apart of the gamble, I don’t mind.”  
  
“They mind.” ,the man morosely informs him, “That's also why I wished to speak with you in this manner again. They think you’re the key to finding Kira...and they want Kira be it the power or the person but they prefer the person. The world is changing very quickly, L. We might have already lost. Surrendering the world to Kira, whoever he is, may someday be our best course of action.”  
  
As revolting as Kira is to the detective, nothing could top the horrors formulating in his mind at the very idea of whom he thinks to be the mastermind at the disposal of the worst humanity has to offer. Should Kira's ideals continue to ring true, those people would turn a fate like any criminal, they would probably meet a terrible fate, having their vile ideologies furthering the creativity of this god-like mass murderer. It's a very real possibility, it makes his stomach drop, at what he's unsure of. Is he concerned with the world, or is he concerned where Light could end up? And if that world came to fruition, where was he in this equation? Dead or worse, at the mercy of his prey?   
  
“If that is the allotted fate then so be it. But either I die by a corrupted justice’s hand or Kira’s unfortunate victory, those are my only options as far as I am concerned.”  
  
“I believe in you, L.” ,he’s telling the truth, “I think you can find some way out of this mess. I’ve done what I can to try to sway their minds but…”  
  
“I understand money and it’s effect on our societies. I appreciate your honesty. It is…refreshing.”  
  
“That’s quite the compliment considering I can tell each time we converse that you think so ill of me.”  
  
“I think ill of the company you keep and the position you inhabit, I cannot speak on your person, but that is irrelevant. Your honesty is appreciated, but know I operate outside of your world. I work within my own.”  
  
“That alone is what may save us yet.”  
  
An unseen smile, “We shall see, won’t we?”  
  
The duration of the ICPO matters were dull as far as L was concerned. He dutifully presented the materials to those that be in a manner that was very factual. With newfound evidence, the world’s greatest left no room for argument to anyone in the room. Not only was solid proof proficiently provided, as was their gameplay to pursue the current Kira. This cushioned the perturbed reactions of the attendees they seemed assured by these plans. Nothing in these theoretics particularly concerned the ICPO nor did it warrant any specialized grants that they would bestow upon the team. Country representatives mutually confessed their homes’ growing support of the evolving killer, some testing vague alignment with Kira’s ideals. The reporting of gross decline in crime did not help the uncomfortable acknowledgment of the supposed 'good' being done by the perpetrator. Not missing a beat, these confessionals were countered with assurance that these were not direct reflections of a country’s lacking support towards the investigation, the speakers dutifully pledging continuing support. Most of the communion was this, it was static chattering as far as L could comprehend, but to Light it was a symphony of a budding world.  
  
Without any video feed to the echoing cavern of elected idiots squabbling, the masqueraded god beamed at the glimmering mirage of his emerging society. L’s inactivity headlined the performance, singing angelically in the swimming melancholy of an impending decline. His fellow task members could feel it too, the uncertainty gradually flooded the room throughout the three hours listening to the event occur. Their little team felt at the bottom of an oceanic trench by the end of the gathering. Light was nowhere to be found in their abysmal reflections, he was still basking in the glory of an emerging deity.  
  
“Did you hear what they said?” Matsuda proclaims as the server is finally closed out, “Its almost like…like they’re starting to support Kira!”  
  
“It’s unsettling to say the least.” Aizawa nestles his chin between pondering fingertips, “I half expected them to disband us in all honesty.”  
  
“Even if they had, we aren’t working within legal lines, technically speaking.” Soichiro interjects, “All of us here have left the police force, the only connection we really have are the cops willing to still work with us when it comes down to the wire. Outside of that, we are entirely reliant on L’s network.”  
  
“Which is rather vast.” Mogi adds, “We’ve made it this far it would be shameful to stop now.”  
  
“Exactly.” Ide offers a meek smile, “Nothing can disband us but ourselves the way I see it.”  
  
“Hell yeah!” Matsuda pumps his fist into the air, “Kira can suck our-”  
  
“Matsuda!” Aizawa and Soichiro snap.  
  
Light laughs, “Hey, I think Matsuda’s got his head in the right place. We could use that kind of upbeat motivation right now, especially after a meeting like that. Although it’s best to not get too arrogant, if anything this has really taught us to stand our ground. More than ever we need to be adamant on catching Kira before this…ideology becomes infectious.”  
  
“Agreed!” Aizawa perks up, “Well said, Light!”  
  
“Indeed.” Soichiro proudly surveys his son, “Well, team, let’s get back to it!”  
  
The pep talk fueled the group well into the night, Light had immersed himself with following Mikami’s real time killings, finding a painfully punctual pattern. He made a mental note to urge a change of behavior or at minimum to have a plan ready for when this reputation inevitably caught up with him. A soft vibration of receiving a text tore him from the spreadsheet, a single line had him pardoning from the room. The message read,   
  
_‘Go to the bathroom.’_  
  
It is from an unlisted number, Light knows who it is. He enters the farthest bathroom from the lounge that would make sense to be in if he were caught walking away from. This single stall was implemented for Misa to make quick changes between jobs when she lived here, but now it is an impromptu haven. A second had barely passed when he shut the door and the phone rings. Smugly eyeing the devise, he looks around, trying to spot the camera to no avail. Finally he answers, the caller doesn’t bother with a formal ‘hello’, but with amusement toying his words as he says, “You won’t find it. Like all of them here, it is expertly hidden.”  
  
“Where should I look then?”  
  
“The sink. The camera is built into the mirror.”  
  
“That’s…really perverted.”  
  
He actually finds it erotic.  
  
“It’s industry standard for most restaurants and gas stations.”  
  
“Your fun fact of the day?”  
  
A bemused snicker, “Sure.”  
  
Light rests a hand on the sink basin, peering into his own image. He imagines that L might be perched behind the glass suckling on his own fingers. Perhaps he’d be using that tongue to skillfully devour a sweet, doing some mundane tick that involuntarily read as seductive to anyone interested. The man’s deep voice worsens the beginning pressure between his legs. “I see you’re wearing some of the clothes I left for you.”  
  
“I doubt you did anything.” ,he sighs into the phone, “All you do is mumble orders and things happen for you.”  
  
“Lucky me.” Light can tell that he’s playing with his own mouth, “Tell me…will my mumbling orders work on you?”  
  
“Try it.”  
  
Light can hear him swallow, “I want to see the bruises I left on you.”  
  
He lets out a calculated frustrated noise, “The building is cold. This sweater is very nice…warm.”  
  
“I can manually adjust the temperature to suit your tastes. But since I cannot stimulate your nipples presently, this will have to suffice.”

“You’re really quite perverted.”  
  
“Stop calling me a pervert.”  
  
“Make me.” Light mockingly laughs, “You can’t!” he leans in, baring his stare into the supposed voyeur, “I’ll pity you.”  
  
Setting the phone down he maintains strict eye contact with himself. Envisioning a different image gawking back, he lifts the garment up his torso, over his head. Shaking out his mussed hair he lays the sweater on the door handle. Retrieving the phone he smiles into each word, “Proud of yourself, L?”  
  
“Yes.” ,the voice breathes into his ear, his craves for the owner to be beside him, how awfully he’s fallen in a short time, “Take off your belt.”  
  
“Convince me.”  
  
“I want you to do something with it. Take off your belt.”  
  
“What do you want me to do?”  
  
“Do as I say. I’ll talk you through it.”  
  
“Is this something you’d do to me in person?” ,he takes his sweet time removing the item, setting it on the counter. Nerves hit and he turns on the sink to muddle any noise in the event someone needs the restroom, sometimes he is painfully reminded that his own father is on the task force, “Do you want to do this to me?”   
  
“I want to do so much to you.” ,the way he speaks is electric, “Today’s meeting frustrated me. I’d like to take out frustrations.”  
  
“Interesting.” ,he grins wickedly, “Do you masturbate when cases aggravate you?”  
  
“At times.”  
  
“Oh.” ,the smile on his face borders terrifying, “In that case, I’ll play along but you can’t touch yourself.”  
  
“What.”  
  
“Not while I’m obeying your orders. Or after. I don’t want you orgasming into anything except me.”  
  
He suppresses rioted laughter at the delicate sound of a zipper going up following a gruff, “Very well. I don’t think you know what's in store for you. We may have to make up an excuse for your absence.”  
  
“You plan to be that rough with me? Or do you want to keep me locked in our room for awhile?” Light runs a hand down his own neck, pretending its L’s firm touch tracing the length of his torso toying with the band of his trousers, “I’ll be sure to give you something to motivate you. If you do anything less than deliver on this threat of yours, I’ll be angry.”  
  
“…how will you show this anger?”  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” ,he leisurely undoes the slip clasp, taking much too long to drag the zipper down, “I’m surprised you’re doing this. It’s distracting from my work.”  
  
“You’ve done plenty today. You were going to turn in soon anyway.”  
  
“True.” ,the pants lazily shift down his legs, the cold air gingerly stinging exposed skin, “I was invited out tonight.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Do your cameras reach into the bars?”  
  
“…yes.” he lies.  
  
“How?”  
  
“We hack the surveillance already within the establishment. It's not terribly hard with public spaces, private homes are more difficult…”  
  
“So I could fuck myself and you could watch from any bar?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And I could fuck anyone and you could watch?”  
  
“…is there someone you wish to do this with?”  
  
Light palms his erection through his boxer briefs, exhaling in a haughty moan, “I want to fuck you.” ,he growls, “I’d also gladly take you since that’s what you want…but you aren’t here. You’re busy.”  
  
“I’ll return soon enough.”  
  
“Not soon enough for me.” ,he groans, drawing pre-cum through the front of the cloth, massaging the hardness mockingly, “I want you _now_.”  
  
“Light…”  
  
“You know I’ve wanted you for awhile now…since before this started...” ,he reaches into his boxers, sighing in pleasure, “…be honest...before last night...have you wanted me in that way too?”  
  
“To some extent.” L confesses, itching to touch himself, watching Light through the computer screen driving him closer to insanity. It is unfair to see him but not be able to hold him, kiss him or taste him, “It should be known that I don’t normally…like people in this way.”  
  
“Then let it be known that I am flattered.” ,he leans against the wall still facing the mirror, “But I still need release…I could find it at a bar. I could find someone who resembles you, take them to the bathroom, have them fuck me, I could fuck them and you could watch.” ,he lowers his voice, “We could both pretend it is you.”  
  
_‘What a horrid, beautiful, wretched piece of work you are.’_ the one watching internally swears. His own erection becomes painful, “Take your underwear off.”  
  
“Isn’t that a little too cruel?”  
  
“I want to see the bruises I left on your thighs…I want to see you.”  
  
Powerful words, they sincerely strike Light’s core, the pieces of him still dissolving, still clinging for dear life to the person from a few weeks ago. That part of him that privately, desperately is in love with the man on the other line. That person would have wrenched the remaining clothing to the floor. He would’ve been a horny mess unraveling uncontrollably for the invisible watcher. No matter how pathetic he is capable of being, that person is forever meant to be suppressed, only getting fleeting tastes of what could be.  
  
“I want to see _you_.” ,he counters.  
  
“The rules are I can't touch myself.”  
  
“I never said I wanted to watch you touch yourself!” ,he cackles, “I want to watch your reaction. I imagine it’s very…enticing.” ,his back arches into his own touch, “But I guess I’ll have to save that for another time.”  
  
“I suppose so.” ,he mutters ruthlessly, “The agreement is you do as I say, I remain celibate until I return.” his tone reaches a pornographic level, “Take. Off. Your. Under. Wear.”  
  
“Yes, _sir_.” Light coyly prolongs the word, delighting in the abrupt inhale taken from L on the other line as he starts making a show of stripping the last bit of modesty.  
  
Abrupt knocking practically kills him. He lets out a horrid shout, mistakenly orgasming in an apparently harmful manner. Raggedly breathing he cuts daggers into the door, grinding his teeth to stop himself from yelling at whoever is behind it. Briefly he plays with the fantasy of L being the one on the other side, but those wishes crash into a rude reality with an incessant voice prying.  
  
“Light, you okay? You’ve been in there for a long time.”  
  
His voice sounds far away showcasing the density of the room. This place was built like a fortress.  
  
“…that idiot.” L rasps in Light’s ear, “Will Matsuda’s sudden transfer out of the task force go unnoticed?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, he ends the call to rush into his clothing.  
  
“One second!” ,he shouts while wiping himself off, cleaning up in the sink and fixing up his hair. Claiming a few moments to himself he forces himself to relax. He had to have the mask of a perfect co-worker, totally not having weird sexual relations with their apparent boss. It isn’t a shock to see that Matsuda is loitering as Light exits. Judging by those bright, eager eyes its clear he is ignorant of anything that was transpiring minutes prior.  
  
“Was it just me or were you on the phone with someone?”  
  
So the walls, and Matsuda, aren’t that thick after all.  
  
He narrows his gaze, “…you heard that?”  
  
“Not exactly, but I guess it isn’t my business, huh?”  
  
“I wouldn't say so” ,he crosses his arms, stepping aside to give Matsuda full entry to the bathroom, and the excuse that he was speaking with Misa should he push for answers, “Did you need the restroom?”  
  
“No, uh, everyone’s heading out for the night. We wanted to be sure you knew. I was appointed to be the last person out since I told them that we were going out tonight anyways.”  
  
“We are?” Light fights to hide his displeasure, “I’ve still got some things I’d like to wrap up before going out anywhere. Maybe another night?”  
  
“Aww c’mon Light!” Matsuda pleas, “You’re on break with school right?”  
  
“Y-yeah…”  
  
“And we had one hell of a day with that meeting.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“So!” ,he exclaims, “We should go out tonight, just us guys! I can only go out with Ide and Mogi and Aizawa so many times before I feel like I’m hitting the club with my brothers or something.",backtracking and flustered he adds, "Not to say that I don’t think of you close like that, you’re just easier to be around you know? Plus I have something really serious that I need to talk to you about.”  
  
“Can’t we talk about it here?”  
  
A familiar buzzing distracts him to a message reading, _‘I expect a conclusion ASAP.’  
  
_“No, it can’t be said with…all of the…you know.” Matsuda gestures around them, alluding to the wires.  
  
Curiosity perks his interest, “…what is this about?”  
  
“Like I said.” ,he makes another not so discreet indication, “Bar talk.”  
  
Another vibration reads, _‘Bring a laptop to the room. Now.’_  
  
 _'Glad to see that we are having a mutually destructive effect on one another...'_ ,he enjoys leaving L on read.  
  
“Listen, I don't think I feel comfortable discussing something that can’t be said here.” Light politely starts inching his way back to the lounge, “Maybe talk to one of your friends outside of work about this, especially if it's a personal matter?”  
  
“They won’t understand.” ,he insists.  
  
The third text, _‘ASAP means as soon as possible, FYI.’  
  
_“I’m sure they will. I really appreciate the offer, but tonight isn’t a great-”  
  
“This is something that has to be done _now_.”

 _'Yeah, so is my sexual gratification._ ' Light quietly snaps, quickly approaching his breaking point.  
  
He bites back choice words to kindly breathe out, “Why is that, Matsuda?”  
  
“Because Ryuzaki isn’t here!” he hisses as an additional message reminds Light what the acronym ‘FYI’ is.  
  
Authentic curiosity allows the one being harassed to ignore an incoming call from the man in question, “What?”  
  
“I need to talk to you about him.” Matsuda whispers speaking oddly as if avoiding his lips from being read, putting Light on high alert, “I know something. Come on! I'll buy your drinks...even your dinner!”  
  
“Alright.” ,he declines the second call, “Be warned, I'm not a chap date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes shit really does write itself, IDK where this secret society BS came from but yo its a vibe and I'm 10000% here for some conspiracy theory BS with this. We all know the NWO wants L's head on a plate but he probably is more convienet alive than dead is my personal theory. Or they know they can't kill him, easily at least. 
> 
> Don't worry, this might get a bit messy, I've said that from chapter one, but no matter how messy it gets there's no way it could get messier or lesser in intelligence than the canon storyline post L's death. Imagine, this is canon in some universe where I am in charge of Death Note, post Yotsuba arc. THIS could've been L Change the World. This IS L Change the World in another timeline according the 'the professionals.'
> 
> Anyways:
> 
> I promise some good smut will make up for Matsu's impudence. I saw an opportunity and took it. Pls don't be the mad at me. 
> 
> I'm also very excited for where this new plot development will go, it's really thrown a wrench in my initial plot for this fic soooooo 
> 
> There will also be Matsu POV next chapter, I p r o m i s e ~


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys night out featuring Watari being too old for this but still being a good dad

Statistically speaking there are too many instances where the probability of Matsuda being in the right place at the right time are nullified. Reflecting upon his life, the places he’s found himself, the probability of always being in the exact spot for the wrong incidents to occur have been freakishly exact. He could go on for literal days of all the strange situations he’s found himself in since walking was an obtained skill ranging from getting lost in a play place, accidentally taking a train to northern Japan because he fell asleep, somehow being left in charge of a celebrity’s pet snake and how could he forget his crowning moment of his career of having to fake his own death to avoid actual demise. Growing up his mother always remarked that he has a magnetism about him, Matsu had chalked that up to his amiable personality, she was referring to his penchant for trouble.  
  
The most recent chapter of peril he’s tangled in is the personal contemplation of who or what or how or why his boss, the top detective in the world, is having sexual relations. Somehow he was not only one of the few who has met and is working with an esteemed man, Matsuda has the privilege of having the image of the gangly genius in his shared kitchen swaddled in a robe, wet haired and piling stolen food into an equally stolen to-go bag. The man, L, or as he’s come to call him, Ryuzaki, is known for being more than weird. He sits in fetal position all the time, chews on his fingers like a child, eats like a hummingbird with a diet of sweets and caffeine, but also keeps the task force on their toes with outrageous whims in the name of chasing justice. Previously, he caught Ryuzaki in a multitude of odd behaviors like, padding down the halls to his room with armfuls of Misa Amane merchandise- Matsuda had an abundance from his past cover job as her manager. Nothing was thought too much on that, honestly it was the most normal thing he had discreetly witnessed. Well, aside from the gradual involuntary taste test experiment of ‘How Much Sugar Can Ryuzaki Put in Light’s Coffee Before He Notices’- it is seven cubes if anyone is curious. Late at night he had even found the uncanny character making prank calls pretending to run a prostitution company, or at least Matsuda believed it to be fictional. Not even when he accidentally stumbled in on an oddly heated debate between the detective and one of their hired criminals, Wedy, over whether or not Ryuzaki can walk in six inch heels, which he proved quite efficiently, did Matsu think about the exploit longer than a few hours if that. But seeing Ryuzaki in the kitchen, at five in the morning was startling to say the least. After all, man was not expected to be a thief in night. But, the real image burned into him is the awful hickies down a long, lily white neck, traveling around protruding collarbones and littering his chest.  
  
They were deep purple welts.  
  
They looked like they hurt.  
  
And they had to have been made by another person.  
  
Because Matsuda had thought way too long about those love bites and even tried to see if there was a way to do that to oneself. The answer is no, if anyone is wondering, unless one is suckling on their own arm, leg, etc.  
  
He had gotten up to get water because he drank too much at the bar after work. All he wanted was hydration and to go back to sleep. What he got was hours staring at a wall wracking his mind for a face to put with those marks. Ryuzaki is an alien, he’s stringy and bony and strange, so terribly bizarre. Despite showing some form of ability to be interested in people be it his fixation on Light or his covert Misa collection, Matsu could never imagine those flat lips kissing anything outside of his plethora of sugary goods. He felt nauseous thinking about that mouth doing romantic acts. What type of person would it take to be willing to endure any form of physical intercourse with that guy?  
  
Around three hours into contemplation, he thought that maybe it was Misa. It would make sense for her to have sexual relations with Ryuzaki for these very logical reasons:  
  
  
1\. He aka L aka Ryuzaki, thinks she’s (Misa) the Second Kira or the Third Kira. Maybe she could seduce him into thinking otherwise or sleep her way into a lessened sentence if she were caught. Matsuda doesn’t think she’s connected to Kira anymore, but who knows at this point.  
  
2\. Misa and Light recently broke up for reasons unknown. He speculates that Light was never that into her and got fed up. Plus he’s been very dedicated to the case more than ever, there’s been mention of him moving back into the task force tower.  
  
3\. Sleeping with Ryuzaki would probably make Light jealous and it would get her back into the headquarters where she could keep trying to get back with Light. That would make stuff pretty messy but he could see Misa trying to pull that kind of stunt.  
  
  
The only person who really has contact with her is Light. Not only that but he’s the best person to discuss this type of thing with, someone would have to be more than actually blind to not see how close he’s gotten with the detective. Despite being handcuffed together for three months, they have always been inseparable, when they’re in the same room its like no one else exists. Matsuda was glad that Ryuzaki had gotten so close to Light, it was clear the guy didn’t get out or really have friends. Although the duo looked hilarious together, such stark opposites.  
  
Briefly he attempted to bring up his findings to Aizawa before Light or Ryuzaki got to the lounge later that day, but was shut down. Matsuda was riddled with anxiety having to face the man from the kitchen, but was met with relief hearing that he was going to be gone for a few days on case business. That left Light alone as well which was ideal, because surely he couldn’t discuss or perhaps even warn him if Ryuzaki was at his side. Additionally, he has a personal theory that the secret lover could just be a hired individual, which would make sense but also contradict the harsh confidentiality that surrounds the detective.  
  
It felt an arduous task to coheres Light to go out with him. But he came out triumphant, unfortunately at the expense of Matsuda’s wallet. Speaking about the head of their investigation’s sex life in a tower that’s infrastructure is surely ridden with an obscene amount of wires, cameras and technologies the general public probably couldn’t fathom didn’t seem right. He had promised Light a guys’ night to remedy any broken-hearted emotions leftover from the recent breakup anyways, it’s the perfect cover. Even then, since the publicity stunt, the younger man has appeared completely fine, truthfully he seemed happier.

Their taxi was comfortable enough, charitable conversation overlaid by Lights’ phone incessantly ringing.  
  
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Matsuda had inquired.  
  
He received a gentle smile as Light turned off his phone, “That would be rude. I already know what they’re calling about, I won’t be of much help to them until I’m back at my room.”  
  
“Oh yeah, tell me about you moving back in! You are moving in right?”

“That’s right.”

“What made you decide to? I figured you’d have a better time living at home with college and all.”  
  
Light shrugged, “It’s about the same commute time. I’ve switched to mostly online classes due to the case anyways. It cuts down on my travel to the task force and I appreciate the extra sleep.”  
  
“I hear you there! It’s so nice to just roll out of bed and down to work. But I feel like I gotta get out to get a change of pace, you know?”  
  
“For sure.”  
  
Throughout the journey to the restaurant Light didn't bring up the urgency Matsuda had expressed back at headquarters. He is a bit surprised by it, now facing a nearly completed meal trying to figure out the most appropriate method to discuss the pressing matter of their leader’s possible sexual exploits with not only a suspect but Light’s ex. In his gut he feels that it must be Misa, especially with Ryuzaki’s condemning words of, _‘No one will believe you.’_  
  
What was up with that? Which piece of the ordeal was unbelievable- the sex or who he was having an affair with?  
  
“Thanks for dinner.” Light broke the pause, setting his silverware down to wipe at his mouth with a napkin, “Don’t get me wrong, campus food and Watari’s cooking is great, but sitting down somewhere eating feels amazing. Good idea, Matsuda.”  
  
“Of course!” ,he beams, “Figured you could use a night out to unwind. You've had a ton going on, Light.”  
  
“Nothing I can’t handle.”

‘ _The way he talks is so suave.’_ Matsuda notes, feeling a bit envious. Even though he’s Light’s senior, in comparison he feels like the student between them. The younger man radiates charismatic energy, he’s easy to be around and trust. Yet he often felt stiff. _‘I wonder if he’ll take this conversation well. He ordered and ate the most expensive thing on the menu, so I’m sure he’ll at least listen even if he thinks I’m stupid…’  
  
_“So…” ,he swirls the dregs of his mixed drink, “What did you want to discuss? Seemed pretty serious if we can’t talk at headquarters.”  
  
“Right.” ,Matsuda watches the remains of the drink slide down Light’s throat, catching the smallest glimpse of similar bruising seen on Ryuzaki’s neck. His stomach drops as his eyes widen, impulsively slapping his hands on the table causing Light to jolt, “Is that a hickey?!”  
  
A few people cast uncomfortable glances their way. Light flashes them a charming expression to lessen the abrupt tension, “Sorry about him. A few too many drinks.” he gently apologizes, snapping a stern look across the table, “Matsuda.”  
  
“Sorry, sorry!” ,nerves has his hands waving obnoxiously, “Ahhh I’m just on edge about this whole thing…”  
  
“Well, you got me out here to talk about it. Why don’t you go ahead? We can order another round to ease your nerves?”  
  
Another drink did sound nice.  
  
“Yeah, good idea.”  
  
Matsuda gets a martini. Light orders cold sake.  
  
A few sips in the younger asks, “What’s on your mind?”  
  
“Ugh." ,he bites off the garnish, chewing it while he speaks, not taking note of Light’s minor disgust, “It’s about Ryuzaki…and you.”  
  
Light’s features remain unchanging, “Me?”  
  
“Yep. You see…I know something about him and I don’t know how to…you know what. Okay, I just need to say it, alright, I just need to get it all out there. You listen and give me your opinion after I say all I have to. Does that sound good?”  
  
“…sure, Matsuda.”  
  
The martini is gone in a large gulp. Glass clinks on wood as he gathers his courage, drawing in a lungful of air ready to present his case.  
  
A different voice speaks for him, it is a voice that is not his at all.  
  
“Light Yagami?”  
  
It's a woman.  
  
“Light…is that you?”  
  
A very pretty woman with short black hair paired with a plum dress hugging her body perfectly, like the garment was designed exclusively for her. Her onyx eyes reflect the warm light of the restaurant making them turn a gentle orangish hue. Rose red lipstick stains her lips now widening to a knowing smile, a baby pink nail flicks to the one in question.  
  
“It is you.” ,she speaks like a fox would, an odd energy pools from her, it makes Matsuda uncomfortable in a good way, “How have you been?”  
  
“Good. And you, Kiyomi?”  
  
“Wonderful…I’ve been very busy but I have a moment before meeting with some executives from the network if you’d like to grab a drink."  
  
"I'm actually here with my friend, but thank you for the invitation.”  
  
Melancholy weighs her expression, “It would be nice to catch up…it feels like ages since I've seen you.”  
  
“I would like that, but right now isn’t the time. I’ll call you, okay?”  
  
“No you won’t.” ,she spits, “You haven’t in months.”  
  
Her sharp gaze catches what Matsuda found this evening, that miasmic tension seeping from her grips the atmosphere mercilessly.  
  
"I see you and Miss Amane are very well.”  
  
“Look-”  
  
“You might want to update the tabloids that you’re on again. I know quite a few of them. I’m celebrating becoming a news anchor tonight. I’d be more than happy to pull a few strings for you."  
  
“Congratulations.”  
  
Matsuda cannot believe how cool Light is, he would be a stammering mess if their roles were to reverse.  
  
"Thank you.” Kiyomi shifts her weight from one hip to another, “Sorry for interrupting your evening."  
  
"Not a problem at all. It’s been good to see you again. You look good.” , tenderly he reaches for her wrist, she initially shies from him but relaxes when his thumb strokes her skin, “I should've called. I got carried away with some police work with my dad. It’s not an excuse but you deserve an answer. I'm glad to see you excelling. You always were immensely talented. Surely your career will be lined with nothing but success.”  
  
Her stare narrows furiously as she visibly weakens for him. Matsuda craves the skill this guy posses, “I appreciate that, Light. Good luck with your police work, you always were so dedicated.”  
  
“You’re too kind. I’ve taken up enough of your time, either you pull up a seat or head onto your dinner, we’ll be here all evening at this rate.”  
  
"I don’t mind if she joins!" Matsuda pipes up, “It's nice to meet you, by the way."  
  
She completely forgot he existed, “I’m Kiyomi Takada, the pleasure is mine. I’ll return Light to you, thank you for allowing me to intrude on your evening."  
  
“Anytime.” ,he grins, “…you know we might hit the clubs after this…if you have any friends…"  
  
Her brow raises, “Are you now?"  
  
Light groans while Matsuda eagerly adds, “Yeah! There's a great place not too far from here. Awesome music, amazing drinks!”  
  
“Very tempting, but I already have plans. Perhaps another night.” ,reaching into her purse she presents her card to Light, “My number's changed, if your phone etiquette has improved and should your busy schedule ever free up…give me a call.”  
  
“Oh…thanks.”  
  
“It's my office line, you’ll have to contact me within business hours to get my personal one.”  
  
"Got it.” ,he pockets the card, Matsuda itches to wrench it away, “Have a good evening, Kiyomi.”  
  
"You too.”  
  
As she weaves her way to her table, Matsuda watches her hips expertly swivel between seats awed at how artistically crafted this woman appears. Whistling under his breath he leers at his dinner guest, “You have got to teach me how to get a woman that hot. Do a guy a favor here!"  
  
Light flippantly tosses her card at Matsuda, "Go for it. We dated for a little bit in university but things got complicated with the case and Misa."  
  
"It sounds like you guys had a messy breakup."  
  
“We didn't exactly break up…"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
“I just kinda…let it fizzle out? I figured she'd take the hint, plus it'd be kinda weird to suddenly hit her up after confinement then being handcuffed to Ryuzaki, it'd make a formal breakup awkward. Plus no one else on the task force knew that I had a few girlfriends.”  
  
"You dog!"  
  
He scoffs, "Not even. I was dating around, it isn't my fault they assume we are exclusive after a date or two. Although Kiyomi and I were pretty exclusive until Misa came along."  
  
"Yeah, she doesn't seem to be a Misa-Misa fan."  
  
“Not really."  
  
Deductive skills aren't needed to configure Light’s level of irritation. Flagging down the waiter Matsuda passes off payment, “Let’s get out of here.”  
  
“I was really hoping you were joking about the club.”  
  
Signing for the tab he pockets his wallet, “How about a bar?”  
  
“Sounds great."  
  
As the duo meanders their way to their next destination of the proclaimed ‘guys’ night’ the man who the night was supposedly going to be about fights the keening urge to throw his phone at the wall. He had called thirty seven times, _thirty seven times_. Not counting Watari, he has never called anyone thirty seven times in the entirety of knowing them much less consecutively. Hand trembling with pent up resentment he forces the phone on the floor. Pressing it into the hotel carpeting he unconsciously tries to will it out of existence.  
  
"Ryuzaki." Watari’s voice wafts from the sitting room of the shared suite, "I have made the preparations with the other society members who have voiced similar concerns regarding the notebook.”  
  
“He won't answer.” L grumbles.  
  
Watari is too old for these childish engagements, even if this used affair is in the name of the investigation, it's not something he wishes to tinker with unless needed. He's said his peace and shall interact until instructed or required. “What time would you like to arrange these meetings?”  
  
“Is there anyway to get video feed of the restaurant he’s in?"  
  
“I have a dedicated agent monitoring Light Yagami’s whereabouts, he's with Matsuda heading to what appears to be a bar according to his phone tracking. I'm not too concerned with what he's doing at the moment. What I am bothered by is the level of distraction this is presenting, as well as coordinating these discussions. Keep in mind they must be done separately, these people do not know that one another has contacted you to discuss the intentions of the notebook.”  
  
In truth he does not need L's opinion or preference to the task at hand. He is vainly attempting to deviate a toxic thought pattern to something more constructive than what is currently overtaking the conversation.  
  
Tired eyes bare into the old man, “Watari. I don't care when or where these conversations occur. I just want Light Yagami to answer his phone when I call."  
  
"He is off work so to speak and has no obligation to you presently."  
  
"I promise any and all concern regarding his whereabouts is solely for the case."  
  
"I know this is new territory for you, but physical intimacy does not directly correlate with a relationship. Do you understand?”  
  
"Not that is matters, but according to him, he loves me." L mutters behind a mutilated thumb nail, “In my observational experience, when someone loves another they are quite attentive across all forms of communication. Including phone calls.”  
  
Watari suppresses a vocalized display of loosing stoicism, opting for the role of patient listener while he drafts up hypothetical times and meeting places. These developments between his ward and the prime suspect, he does genuinely hope that Light is as innocent as he preaches to be. It would be a favorable change in pace to see L have an impactful human experience that isn't traumatic. And while he thankfully missed this phase, or at least was not presently witnessing, the evolution of hormones and attraction when the detective was in his teens, that does not necessarily eliminate that juncture from a present timeline. He never thought that segment of life would occur on the highest profile case their team has faced of all instances. Keeping one ear open to the circumvent chattering he welcomes the mundane relaxation of scheduling figureheads into a tight knit itinerary laced with some sightseeing to distract the overly stimulated and fixated mind sneaking off to the bathroom to undoubtedly lewdly photograph himself on his flip phone.  
  
The pornographic photos are sent to a phone dead in Light Yagami's pocket. Reaching for his fifth drink of the night he immediately starts to nurse it, Matsuda teeters beside him. Music plays at a decibel a little too high for recreational preferences. Alcohol raging in the men's systems seems to thrive on it, the younger starting to feel his beverages more than he’d openly admit while the other is fast approaching flippant inebriation.  
  
“Free from aaaannnyyy of your exes." Matsuda slurs, attentively wiping the side of his glass with the courtesy napkin, “And without aaannnnyyy of Ryuzaki's spyware..." ,he takes an inhale akin to a prayer, “I can finally speak."  
  
“Please.” Light almost begs, he left the virtual sex show to find out supposed secret information, but all he learnt this evening was a pointless list of facts about his co-worker.  
  
Swiveling in his seat he seriously meets the other’s stare, “I caught Ryuzaki having sex.”  
  
He almost drops his drink, spitting up what was on its way down his trachea. Coughing and gratefully accepting an emergency water from the bartender he fights for the privilege of speech. His companion is equally shaken by such a violent reaction from someone he expected to cooly accept the news, if anything probably chastise him to some degree. This only boosts his confidence of his theories but also insights pity. It’ll be rough hearing that his newest former girlfriend might be sleeping with Ryuzaki. Matsuda is unsure which betrayal may harm Light most, but it's his duty as his friend and co-worker to disclosethe smallest hint of deception.  
  
“Super shocking for sure, I mean I guess objectively speaking, he's an attractive guy if you're into that type of...person? Honestly I didn't think it true but the evidence was all there.”  
  
“Was it?" Light weakly rasps.  
  
A solemn nod, “No denying it. Even though he told me that no one would believe me. That's why I had to talk to you, I think you're the only person I could discuss this with. And just let me preface this with, it doesn't change the way I think of you. Really, it's probably none of my business but I just want to be looking out for you, you know? Like I kinda feel like we're brothers, the chief kinda feels like a second dad to me. It feels right to talk to you first you know? Aaand from there we can figure something out. The other's don't have to know, unless it interferes with the case of course. But when you think about it, how could it not? At least at some point?”  
  
Nervousness whispers across Light's features as he finishes the last of his water, “Ryuzaki seriously talked to you about this?"  
  
“Given the circumstance there wasn't any other way about it."  
  
“I see. Well, I'm sure he appreciates you keeping this to yourself. I can promise you though, I doubt it will present any conflict with the case. Ryuzaki is much too professional for that and I can certainly contain myself, it's not hard to differentiate from work and private matters.”  
  
_'What an amazing guy!'_ Matsuda mutely praises, _‘Of course he already knows, he's just that good…’_  
  
"What a relief." ,he sighs into his drink, "I was really worried you didn't know. I knew the others would make fun of me, and Ryuzaki would just gaslight me into next year if I tried to bring this up in the headquarters.”  
  
Emitting a strange hoarse chortle, Light leans closer, "Hold on..what are you talking about?”  
  
“Ryuzaki…having sex...?"  
  
“With who?"  
  
“...Misa?”  
  
He laughs again this time bordering manic, “You caught him with Misa?"  
  
“Ummm..not exactly. That's what I wanted to talk to you about...who did you think he had sex with?”  
  
Light looks broken with his smile slack-jawed, anyone standing nearby could hear internal gears testing their limits, “No one.”  
  
“Uh-uh, you thought it was…"  
  
‘ _Hold on...’_ he realizes, _‘...they both have hickies, they've both been staying late together, Light's moved back into the building. The whole picture has been there the entire time!’_  
  
"You had a three-way with Ryuzaki and Misa.” ,he says too seriously, “It all adds up.”  
  
"No." Light firmly corrects, "No, not at all. It isn't that at all. I told you why I moved in, Misa or Ryuzaki has nothing to do with it.”  
  
"You both have-"  
  
"Do not say that word out in public with me again, Matsuda.”  
  
“Ryuzaki clearly got them from Misa, or a hooker, or-"  
  
"Look, I know what this looks like but I promise you are wrong."  
  
"Do you know who he's sleeping with?”  
  
"Do _you_?”  
  
They practically glower at one another until Light breaks the contest with a practiced smile. He shakes his head while affectionately examining his glass, “Okay..I think we've had way too much to drink…in all seriousness about Ryuzaki and the...sex thing…"  
  
"Uh-huh?"  
  
“I also caught onto some odd stuff with him. I haven't talked to him about it, but I did see what he was looking at on his computer and it, well, was kinda messed up."  
  
“What was it?"  
  
"You really cannot tell anyone."  
  
"I bought you a fifty dollar steak for crying out loud! Come on."  
  
"He was looking into fetish services." Light whispers, “Ones for a very specific fantasy regarding the person we are trying to catch."  
  
Matsuda's jaw practically met the floor, "That is messed up."  
  
“Yeah...so circling back to what we were saying earlier about not telling the task force..."  
  
“For sure, not going to bring that up unless absolutely needed."  
  
“Absolutely. It’s not our business what he does in his free time."  
  
An overly eager nod of agreement, “Spot on, Light!" ,a sleazy grin threatens to split Matsuda's face, "Speaking of free time...who have _you_ been seeing?"  
  
"Let's just say my college campus is full of great rebound options.” ,he smirks, "Hey, how about I buy a few rounds? Tonight's been fun, consider it a thank you."  
  
Mathematically speaking, it should be improbable for the amount of happy accidents Matsuda has wandered into. His parents wondered if he willed it, his friends figured him a god of sorts but as Light Yagami charmingly urges beer after wine glass after shot into the man’s system, he sees through the statical wonderings to the singular fact. That supposedly divine component often overlooked when it is consistently obvious is that Matsuda is an idiot. A gleeful moron lacking the graces to stumble into narratives that have not invited him. He crashes to them to then drag in his own sensical nonsense. He's ignorant, he's blissful, he's a shell of a person that Light has never found himself envying or wishing to be, instead he debates on the likelihood of his adorable bumbling leading to his downfall. As much as he despises to admit, there is a soft spot for Matsu, be it his banish grin, sparkly eyes or youthful outlook on, well, everything, that uninteresting trait of blatant impudence is what makes the fool forgivable.   
  
While the man-child packs away an egregious concoction of chemicals, the plotting overseer reclaims his sobriety, assuming the role of chaperone. He is a shitty supervisor, not stopping his companion from his binge. Eventually the point of hugging the counter is upon them. A sad moan pulls from his lips, “I feel reeeaaallllyyy sick."  
  
“Could you please take your friend home?” ,the bartender requests, signaling the end of a grueling night, "If he throws up in here he's going to be kicked out and I don't want to call the police."  
  
"I appreciate it.” Light apologizes, excusing the duo outside to catch a cab back.  
  
Thankfully Matsuda fell asleep the second he sat in the vehicle allowing Light to turn on his phone, greeted with the myriad of messages from Misa begging for attention in hidden updates paired with twenty three missed calls from the same blocked number. What is unexpected is the three unread multimedia messages. Glancing to check on Matsuda’s lack of consciousness he casually shifts into the car window, opening the first to stifle an auditory reaction.  
  
_'How bold of you, L.'_ ,he has to stop himself from peering closer at the small pixelated display of the man topless in a mirror, holding his own cock. Unfortunately for Light, both in and out of new world interest, his face is obscured only capturing features from the lips down. Despite not getting a full view, the delicious parting of that mouth more than suffices. The second image is of the phone model on the counter of a lavish bathroom. His head is tipped back on the wall, body arching into the curve of his hand. Thirdly is a melting smile above soiled jeans, it immediately plunges Light’s thoughts into filthy, degrading, vile places that only aids in raising his aggravations built up over the evening. Biting down an ungodly fit of sniggering he replies with one text.

_‘New phone, who is this?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK how there ended up with so much masturbation here, but they are apart so it kinda makes sense?
> 
> God bless Matsuda, I hope this chapter lived up to the POV expectations. I don't know how Kiyomi found her way into this chapter but I've got a fun payoff coming up. 
> 
> I'm also not going to go too in depth with the whole secret society thing, it's more of a 'here's another problem, also a fun space to explore morality and substitute the weird mob-plot-thing after L's death', speaking of which I'm still debating on if I want to bring Near and Mello, right now I think I have plenty to juggle and if they happen to make their way downtown, I guess we'll walk reallyfuckingfast
> 
> Seriously tho, thank you guys for the incredible interaction with this fic, it's the most I've ever gotten outside of ye olde Deviant Art days, I'm always really pumped to post for you guys and to read your thoughts. It's also been reviving my writing skills to work on personal projects too. So thank you guys tremendously for your input <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some plot, a little bit of unfortunate accident for Misa, a very harsh punishment for Light and Matsuda gets scared by a cell phone. 
> 
> TW:: mentions of eating disorder behavior, this won't be re-occuring and is used as a mental evaluation of a character. Misa's internal dialogue discusses restricted eating, calorie counting and she does a body check. No discussion of how to do these behaviors are mentioned nor is her weight. The author has an eating disorder and doesn't want anyone to be triggered or to give anyone harmful tools. <3 Go drink some water you beautiful bb, have a snacky, meditate <3 You might not love yourself but I do damn it <3 
> 
> Also we got drugs, kids. Don't do them, just read about assholes taking them??? IDK just don't do drugs alright? I've tried, it's not THAT great. Honestly, unless you are getting into a back alley fight, it's not worth it, and chances are, your friend that promised you said back alley fight will not let you get into le fight SO FUCKKKK that. Also like, for real, fucking don't do not we do not stannnnnnnn 
> 
> Okay, enjoy!

Thirty-one hours, forty-nine minutes and eighteen seconds…nineteen…twenty…and so on time has passed since their last coquettish exchange. The meetings with _the lunatics_ , as he’s dubbed them, has drug on stalely. He thought leaving Light on read was a ‘funny’ and ‘coy’ method of what people call ‘flirting’ but, apparently not. Instead his plan painfully backfired resulting in numerous frustrations. Not only this but, his mind feels like it’s slipping into a madness he could’ve never predicted. It is an insanity lined with only a handful of sexual transactions. Logically and emotionally speaking, he should not be this enamored with filthy daydreams teaming with scenarios of how to exact revenge on his calculated lover.  
  
_‘Is that what he is? A lover?’ ,_ he damningly muses, _'So soon...? This feels too soon...'_  
  
A thumb wipes at his teeth as his eyes train unblinkingly on the man’s form via the security feed from their shared room. Light is getting dressed for the day while L is begrudgingly waiting for yet another meeting with a moron with too much power. Thankfully it is the last. He’s tired of these in person discussions chaperoned by Watari, the impending appointment is fast approaching. The laptop would be snapped shut soon. He would be void of the grainy image of that limber body stripping out of pajamas and into clean underwear, trousers, an oxford shirt- all items L had Watari purchase. Something enthralls him to know that he controls so much of Light’s life, even down to the clothes on his body and the shoes on his feet. Of course, Light’s had more than enough time to return home to retrieve his own wardrobe, but judging by his smug smirks at the price tags he removes each morning it's clear which set of attire he prefers.  
  
_‘Are you thinking about me?’_ ,he wonders, _‘Do those things remind you of who got them for you? Granted, it wasn’t me who did the labor but I did put in the order, the money from my account, the thoughtfulness mine.’  
  
_In the day and a half of ignorance, their only method of communication has been via the task force phone lines and has strictly been discussions pertaining to the case.

 _Only_ the case.

He had sent texts in attempts to lure Light back to the bathroom or when the man is alone in their room; but they went ignored.  
  
Twice he’s had sex toys delivered to their shared living space paired with texts with blatant implications. The arrogant prick did not bother to so much as open them. Instead they now sit in the entry closet.  
  
Once he sent a short video of himself careful to not show his face. Watching on his laptop he was a bit heartbroken to see an evident reaction but nothing returned.  
  
_‘Is he not interested in me anymore?’ ,_ he watches Light leave the room, switching the camera feeds to see his journey to the lounge. A text from Misa pings his phone, his gut sinks.  
  
_‘Surely it's another desperate whining plea…’_ ,a quick check into phone records indicate that much to be true.  
  
He’s pathetically assured that Light maintains his silence towards her, _‘Have you gotten what you wanted from me? Was the game more fun when I’m there? Were you more interested by the thought of me? Did the great reputation of the ‘Detective L’ not appease you, Light? Do you need me to love you back? I don't know if I can do that. Why are you suddenly-’  
_  
“Ryuzaki.” Watari now behind the laptop screen like a phantom. To the uneducated eye he appears stoic and calm, but to one who knows him it's clear he’s becoming annoyed, “Please pause your virtual stalking of Light Yagami to accompany me to the meeting location.”  
  
“You could simply tell me it’s time to leave.”  
  
“Apologies, sir.  
  
The meeting is thirty minutes. A record.   
  
Usually they last around an hour at minimum with cordial bickering over the gravity of the situation. Mostly over why a mass killing notebook should not be in the hands of any human, much less the most formidable ones in the world. The guest of this meeting is the youngest son of a very terrible man who has already set a buying price for L to immediately give over the notebook, as well as another check being dangled in promise of exchange for Kira himself. Every one of these people discussed have the same egregious agenda for the notebook and for the masked figure behind it; bend the world to their pockets, instate total power or at minimum financially or otherwise woo Kira to subjugate himself to their whims. A very narrow-minded approach but this breed tends to always simmer in these convoluted delusions. They’ve spent decades upon millennia laying the foundation of their secret societies and histories, only focused on their own prosperity paired with the survival of a privileged few. Despite being very fascinating to toy with they are equivocally rudimentary lacking challenge but making up for it in inexpediently shallow toss ups to cases.  
  
One bit of information that did surprise him from the son was when he made mention of, “A media empire being constructed.”  
  
The man seemed uncomfortable by disclosing that much. He clearly knew more than he told, it was their first meeting so trust would have to be built, which would come in the form of his life not being ended shortly after their meeting.  
  
“As you know, my uncle owns the company that owns the companies for the media on a global scale. You know that multiple companies don't _really_ exist right, Mr. L? It’s all just one-”  
  
“Yes.” ,he had sighed, back turned for safety on both their behalf, “I am aware of how the world works, in and out of the underground’s veil on the majority. Also, it’s just L, or Ryuzaki, Mister sounds…weird.”  
  
“Alright.” ,the son agreed, “I don’t know how their plan is going to be enacted.”  
  
The man’s words wobbled just barely, he knows.  
  
“But you know, I did overhear my older brother get upset over the use of a man in the Japanese broadcast circle.”  
  
“Who was it?”  
  
“A Mr. Demegawa?”  
  
_‘You can’t be serious.’_ L wanted to say, but kept that comment aside, “I’ll look into it. Anything else? Can you be sure to do as I asked you?”  
  
“No and yes. Can I be sure to trust you? This is my first time working with you…it’s treason against my family, everyone I-”  
  
“I don't’ really care about your emotional turmoil regarding the betrayal of your family.” L dismissed, “So long as you don’t say anything, no one aside from your bodyguard waiting outside will even suspect what has transpired today. Even then, I was told that your guard was informed that we are exchanging drugs, not information. Correct?”  
  
“Yes…speaking of which, do you have the-?”  
  
“Of course.” ,he signaled to Watari who presented a sizable case filled with a very expensive tasting menu of MDMA, GHB, LSD, two kinds of methamphetamines and repacked Smarties labeled as Rohypnol, “The GHB is pretty good, helps me sleep on occassion. Only puts me down for six hours though. Good for plane trips…speaking of which, I need to be leaving. Are we done here?”  
  
“Holy shit…” ,the guest murmured, “This is some professional grade stuff…”  
  
“We need a consistent cover, don’t we?” ,he stood up. Watari opened the door, “You have my direct line in case you overhear additional information.”  
  
“I do have one more question.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Does it really work? The notebook, I mean.”  
  
“That’s confidential information. Thank you for your time.”  
  
Yesterday they began the experiment.  
  
At 13:00 the human whose name was written in the Death Note died to the exact specifications. He had already suspected it worked and that the notebook was real enough, it is the two rules scrawled on the back, the outcome of this experiment, is what will inevitably tip the scales. Boarding the plane L settles into the seat, nerves causing his index finger to roam his lower lip. This is the twelfth day of the waiting game and the thirty-seventh hour without authentic contact with Light Yagami.  
  
—  
  
Misa Amane is not a complex creature. She is fairly low maintenance in the grand scheme of human upkeep. Her diet is fairly light of raw fish, daikon radish and a lot of cucumber-lemon water. On the rare occasion she’ll indulge in a sweet, but usually that’s limited to three times a year and it has to be a liquid of some sort. Other than that she eats roughly one meal a day with little snacks throughout. If she were asked she wouldn't consider food the most complicated thing about her, but a friend mentioned that her 'habits' were odd and at times concerning.  
  
The rituals didn’t start until after her parents died. Sometimes it worried her but, it kept her waistline within the agency’s requirements and left her mind just a little bit vacant which she never was bothered by. But, since the fake fight, her thoughts have been terribly bleak. Modeling and acting aside, she’s been bored and when she’s not bored she’s sleeping and when she’s not sleeping she’s staring at another to-go menu trying to do mental math for the daily intake and when she's not mentally counting that she's reminded of money because money is math and is curious on what's in her bank account so she goes to the computer and checks and somehow gets onto her photos which always has none of Light. They never took any together. Barely any time passed before the Kira Case took over their lives.  
  
Without the case she's felt lonely. Weirdly enough she craves the days of surveillance, although that never stopped. Light didn't even need to covertly disclose supposedly top secret information, she stumbled upon a camera in her shower and another in a closet. It wasn’t surprising that Ryuzaki had her under close watch but she was impressed when Light had pointed out the paparazzi increase was that creep’s doing.  
  
Speaking of which, he was the last person on her list of ‘People In the Fight For Light’s Heart’, actually, he wasn’t on the list at all. Well, maybe just a little bit, but only because that pervert Ryuzaki handcuffed himself to her boyfriend…ex-boyfriend. Never in a million years would she have thought that she'd loose Light to a man, much less one that had the aesthetic graces of a burnt dandelion. Initially she found him odd but warmed up to his strange manners, they even shared a few desserts, she was willing to forgo her rigid rules in order to ease the tension of being a suspected murderer. Plus he was funny, in an odd sort of way. He and Light certainly were upsettingly close at times. Reflecting back it sort of made sense as to why Light felt like he could pursue Ryuzaki in that manner, whenever they were in the room it was like they are the only two people in the world. When Light was hers she certainly felt like he were the only one alive, but he always gave off the impression that he'd rather be anywhere than with her. Unless of course he was very rarely sexually driven to reciprocate her constant advancements, which were deterred by 'saving it for when Kira's caught.' 

Now she'd have to wait for him until he is hers again- no longer a previous boyfriend.   
  
That's a first- an _ex_. Sure, Misa has been on a plethora of dates but never actually dated. Light was her first for many experiences, a passionate kiss, being really held, valued, used, incarceration, supernatural schemes to overthrow the current world to turn over a new one. That’s right, he’s going to rebuild this awful society, the very one that let her parents die and almost let the murder roam free again. No one else is capable enough or perfect enough to resurrect a pious landscape such as this one. Already the stage is changing at a rapid pace. Despite constantly yearning, she is most eager for how the world will look once Light is done with it.   
  
But first he has to be done with whatever he's doing with Ryuzaki leaving Misa to her own devises until that time. She never knew what time it would be, but Light always had some way of making his plans known in how they would naturally unfold.   
  
Having recently arrived home from a long shoot with a sashimi tray in hand, she settles her things down in from of the TV. Without Light or one of the task force members she's had to develop new dinner schedules. Eating on set was equally sad, she preferred to do it in private. Clicking on the news she’s greeted by the bombardment of Kira propaganda mixing with talk shows discussing the mortality, personalities praising the unknown savior and entire news stations dedicating their entire programming to the vigilante deity.  
  
A new face to the NHN Network pops into her line of sight, the woman smiles evenly. Her voice is mature and smooth as she says, “Welcome to NHN Tonight, I’ll be your new co-host, Kiyomi Takada, here to bring you your night’s traffic report. If you’re traveling…”  
  
“Gross. No thank you!” Misa yawns switching the channel to a virtual shopping display, “Ugh couldn’t they get someone, I don’t know, _prettier_? Less uppity than _Kiyomi_? Ewww.”  
  
The women on the shopping channel balk at some overpriced designer purse, Misa swears she got it as a gift for modeling with the company. Her mind floats back to the news wondering if Light watches the news, surely he must with the case. _'He's probably watching it right now, curled up with cringy Ryuzaki inhaling another piece of cake or something else...disgusting. Just like him. Bug-eyed, emo, piece of...ugh. What if I was on the news, huh? Then they'd both have to look at me. Light would get to see me. Maybe I could communicate with him like that?'_

Changing the channel back to NHN she squints at Kiyomi. 

_'I guess she's... pretty? But in a nark sort of way. I bet she organizes her clothes by color and has her stupid blah dresses dry cleaned. She seems so boring I don't know how Light dated her when he was dating me. I bet I just made her seem so tasteless. I kinda feel sorry for her. It's not like Light wanted to date her, he was just doing that to keep fucking Ryuzaki off his tail. I'm sure she'd make Ryuzaki bored too.'_  
  
A strange sense of pride settles as she reflects on the time she friend-zoned her and Light's arc rival after he states that he could 'fall for her.' Taking a few bites of fish she muses that past situation, entertaining the idea of her humoring the strange man's crush. 

_'It could be me having to seduce him for whatever Light needs.'_ she internally mourns, _'Then he wouldn't have to be apart from me! I'm sure he'd be terribly jealous. Which would result in Light throwing himself into my arms begging for my attention, needing validation that I liked him over Ryuzaki! I would obviously give it to him, ugh yuck gross having to seduce that guy, I'd need Light as a palette cleanser I bet Ryuzaki has super bad breath from all the sweets he eats. I made out with a guy once after we got dessert on a date...didn't taste awful but man sugar sure can taste bitter after awhile...'_

She beams at the thought but is slowly defeated by reality sinking in. The sashimi dinner suddenly is very unappetizing.  
  
“I’m bored.” she announces to no one, overly used to the dead ghost.  
  
Swinging off the couch she parades to her bedroom, clicking on the lamp to see overdue laundry and a forgotten ice cream tub. Light had never visited her apartment, but she wishes he had. Maybe then she’d be able to sleep a little more soundly in her bed remembering he was there. Stripping down to her underwear she stares at in the mirror. Was it was her body this was not enough for Light to forget his weird game to pursue Ryuzaki? He says they'll be together again once the freak isn’t breathing anymore, but that was that true?   
  
She then peels off her underwear, hating that she starts to cry at seeing the indentions of shed lingerie. She wishes she is plastic. She dreams to be emotionless. That would be better than this. She yearns for his touch again, even if she always felt alone in it, at least there was basic human warmth.  
  
Her fingers pinch at skin written off as fat as she releases it to try to smooth it back into her body. Painful demons continue to remind her that Light didn’t really leave because of his mission, but because she’s ugly and somehow a man is prettier than her. Surely it was her body, or perhaps her hair, her eyes, her cheekbones, the fact that she can’t close her hands around her waist or the highest part of her thigh. She couldn't find a reason other than physical as to why she’s alone. Obviously it’s the number on the scale or the amount of fingers that can go around certain parts of her arm as to why she’s without anyone.  
  
The turmoil piles higher and higher, she aches for somebody to comfort her in self-destroying nights like this. Misa would never admit that she misses Rem more than she mourns Light.  
  
When she’d start to beat herself up with bad words or deadly habits Rem would extend a crackling skeleton arm to brush her hair, a deep sultry voice lulling her out of a self-created hell. Her rickety frame would stoop around her as she sobbed. Every time Misa would break Rem's presence was soft and tender and unconditionally loving even though the idol was displaying her absolute worst parts to offer. This was a person no one but a deceased death god got to see, and this is the person she’s left with. How awful, maybe at the end of the suffering she’ll finally have the future she deserves instead of the present graining on her endurance.  
  
Coming out of the fog she dresses in a tight black dress intentionally forgetting the underwear. It’s not that she wanted to cheat on Light but, it’s that she needs the touch of somebody and Hideki always answered his phone late at night. She wouldn't even bother calling him, he had given her his address way too many times.  
  
Rounding the corner towards his penthouse apartment, she is abruptly face to chest with another. “I’m so sorry!” she apologizes, staring up at the stark face of a businessman with long black hair, pointed rectangle glasses and a dark green suit.  
  
He adjusts his spectacles, knowingly observing her name and lacking lifespan floating above her head. _Finally._  
  
“It’s no trouble at all.” ,he glances around spying a man with a camera watching a little too intently.   
  
No matter, he has the identity of Kira’s greatest annoyance. Soon his ownership will be absolute, “Have a good night.”  
  
“Of course, you too!”  
  
Misa did not have a good night. She had a long night watching melodrama re-runs in Hideki’s apartment lobby because he already had three girls in his room, and she wasn’t inclined to ‘join in.’ Her time was better spent writing another love song about the man she would pretend the idol to be in order to orgasm. Convenient that her agency is trying to break her into the music business when all she can do is write out her upset. 

—  
  
Abruptly feeling him over his shoulder was not the welcome Light Yagami was expecting late the following evening.  
  
According to L’s flight plan he had landed early yesterday morning from a Berlin airport. His records showed that the car picked up him forty five minutes after arrival and from reviewing of the constant footage at the team’s disposal, it was easy to watch the detective had shuffle into the task force headquarters with his diligent shadow in tow. While the task force was on an interchanging lunch break he watched in a shrunk window at the corner of his screen, mouse ready to click out at the last possible moment. He was ashamedly entranced by the show of the insomniac throwing back sleeping pills, then curling into a slumber. Which upon an approximate scrubbing, lasted roughly five hours. From there the head of their task force woke up, trudging to his particular bathing ritual, changed clothes, Light rudely noted how the man kept his back to the cameras at all times, then seemingly disappeared.  
  
He frequented all of the footage from that point on from all cameras resulting in a newfound mystery. Working dually, he added to his real time death list and keeping an eye out for any leads to Mikami, while scrubbing for the smallest hint of where L evaporated to. Part of him wondered if he should contact Watari to inform him of the apparent magic trick, but figured either the elderly gentleman would already be on the trail of locating the missing person or was an accomplice.  
  
The group had dispersed for the day, however they were avidly combing through news stations and the late night programs were due to stream. Not thinking that L would appear anytime soon, Light had taken Matsuda’s offer to stay up with him. He was waiting for the other to return with their takeout order when he felt breath on his ear, next catching a pale arm stretching out to place a hand atop his own to take control of the mouse. He hates how starkly he jumped in his seat, the way the assaulter spoke didn’t help his fluster.  
  
“You put that in the wrong folder.” ,he comments in a low graveling voice, “Here.” ,his lips brush against Light’s ear, “Let me fix that for you.”  
  
He swallows thickly, noting that the other’s hand fits atop his perfectly. His skin is featureless other than callouses in places frequenting the keyboards or overly bitten out of habit. The natural inclination to lace their fingers is strong but he holds back opting to mutter, “Thanks.”  
  
“Anytime.” , an inhale, “Do you have a moment? I have something I need to show you?”  
  
“Can’t you do it here?” Light doesn’t dare move, there is a dangerous energy radiating off of L tonight.  
  
He _is_ livid.  
  
“No.” L sighs, “I cannot. Follow me, please.”  
  
The bastard doesn’t so much as bother to give Light a second to get up before removing himself from his encroaching position. Turning the chair around he marvels that the audacity seeping out of the man he’s been ignoring for days, _‘I’m pretty certain he’s mad at me for my behavior. But I can’t tell. Whatever he’s been away from was extremely confidential so this could be him reluctantly sharing private information to gauge my Kira percentage. Or he wishes to discuss our intimate relationship in private. Surely he’s got a tracking device implanted in Matsuda at this point. So there should be no worry regarding an interruption. He should be able to show me or discuss anything in the open, alone like this...whatever. Best just go along.’_

Entertaining the request, he rises from his seat catching pace with L with ease. They fall in tense silence. He doesn’t like it, _‘Should I talk to him?’  
  
_Uncharacteristic briskness in his step settles the matter.  
  
They enter a new part of the building without introduction or acknowledgement. They then stride across a long barren room below the parking garage located beneath the tower only accessed by three very specific elevators. In what Light hopes to be the final elevator, he steals a glance at L who is so still Light is vaguely concerned on if he’s breathing. Nerves start to settle as the rings brighten past the numbered floors, the coolness and dankness of being underground thickening the air. Anxiety trickles into his thoughts, wracking and retracing his steps for any slip up, for any connection he may have to his alternate identity. Analyzing turns up none aside from his texts with Misa but that is a very basic, complex code that he doubts that has been translated. To anyone reading the texts they would see a string of pleading, random pictures and unassuming lamentations of a relationship to be rekindled. No way has it been deciphered of what type of text, or sort of message would indicate what was transpiring between the other players in Kira’s grasp.

He has to calm down, otherwise the stone cold watchman would surely unravel him here and now. This is just a further descent of deceit. Of course no one on the team knows of this restricted crisscrossed maze within layers of floors that is not even disclosed on the map of the headquarters. A map that all task force members were given a detailed lecture on months ago. Only Light would be trusted enough by the great detective to know of this hidden labyrinth. After all, he is the chosen one to not just rewrite the world, but to continue delving deeper into the foundation of his enigmatic enemy.  
  
A mechanical ding signals their arrival to a abysmally stout lobby. Without missing a beat L makes a beeline to the desk across the room. He lifts the phone off the receiver, pressing buttons precisely to get the device to emit an odd pinging. Then the wall clicked. Pressing a hand to a panel a section lifts up to a short hallway approximately ten feet in length.  
  
_‘What an unbelievable display of secrecy.’_ Light mentally comments, reluctantly pursuing L as he continues down the hallway.

The wall shuts behind him. It is deathly loud. Chills grip his stomach and throat, _‘Stop. Shut up. This is fine, you’re fine. He’s mad because you’ve been ignoring him, he doesn’t have any proof. Even if he did, this isn’t his style to cooly lead me to my death. He’d sooner just point a finger and call me out in front of the task force to see what mental acrobatics I’d perform than this. Besides...I’m pretty certain I could overtake him in a fight since I have yet to get his damned name.’_  
  
Despite the reassuring self talk, he does hold his breath for a split second as L opens the door to reveal a dimly lit room illuminated by expensive presenting lighting fixtures showcasing deep blue textured walls. The room is pretty extravagant for an execution sight, if anything it has the ambiance of a very lavish hotel suite with lush, corporate goth undertones.

Stepping inside he notes that L closes the entrance for him and that it appears to be the only exit. Slipping his hands into his pockets he quickly pieces the display together, turning he sizes up large eyes assessing him. For the first time in what felt like years he’s able to drink in imminent those dark grey eyes lined with sleeplessness, that sharp face, strong neck, high cheekbones, a barely crooked nose, black hair which his hands alone knew the perfect velvety texture of. Only now standing a few steps away is he reminded of the spell they cast over each other, the very sorcery that contradicts his very being, his unwavering commitment to something more than what transpires between them in and out of their hidden intimacy. It is in those concealed moments he battles himself to not throw it all away and not twist fate in their favor.  
  
“You know, this is kind of a lame sex dungeon.”  
  
A faint brow rises.  
  
“I mean, aren’t they supposed to be red? Also…” ,he sizes up the four poster bed with a brass frame, a burnt grey settee at the foot of it, two identical couches facing each other across a wood and glass coffee table. On one wall’s length is lined with opulent cabinets with matching brass hardware to the bed. Oak flooring supports their forms, monochromatic oriental rugs frame the sitting area and bed. Truly it could pass for a hotel concept if there were windows, “…where are the sex toys? No dedicated furniture?”  
  
Hungry eyes reply silently, confirming his rage.  
  
“From how you were bragging about your bizarre sexual appetite I expected something more…interesting. For the first time you’ve left me disappointed.”  
  
Light wasn't paying attention to the other becoming closer until they’re a breath apart, the man’s scent getting him high.  
  
“Do enlighten me. How may sex dungeons have you frequented in your sexual career?”  
  
“I…uhhh…”  
  
He peers closer, “Go on.”  
  
Wetting his lips he scrambles for a response but gets a hand to his jaw. Nimble fingers mockingly stroke the skin under their touch.  
  
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”  
  
Tauntingly patting Light’s cheek he drops his hand to stroll around the room. Staying where he stands the other merely observes.

“Due to our…unfortunate interruption the other night, our privacy was painfully brought to my attention. I’m not a fan of rooms like these, I find them…cheap so I spared no expense to renovate this space into something that didn’t feel as such.”  
  
“What was this before?”  
  
“It was made to keep any potential captured suspects for interrogation.” ,he stops at the wall of cabinets opening one with ease, “I imagined you would be kept here eventually.”  
  
“Quite a way to treat a criminal.”  
  
“Like I said, it’s been renovated. Originally this was outfitted for long term purposes. Through this panel,” he pushes under the top of the cabinet he opened, the wall to his left depresses slightly, “, if you apply some force you’ll find a full bathroom complete with a tub, walk in shower, etcetera.” , next he boredly opens one of the cabinets, revealing some of what Light was complaining about a lack of, “Here is some of the…toys. They are suited to your hypothesized tastes. As well mine. If you look closely at the bed there are quite a few hinges and loops to provide a very diverse use. The intention of it is not to sleep, if you catch my drift.”  
  
“I see.” ,he watches a little too excitedly as L leaves his place by the wall with a box taken from the storage, “You’ve certainly transformed the place.”  
  
“Are you impressed now?” ,his tone is still too even, it’s threatening, “Is this up to your vanilla standards?”  
  
“Vanilla?”  
  
“Tell me the kinkiest thing you’ve done.” ,he whispers, setting the box on the nightstand, expression suppressing rising anticipation, “I’ll tell you mine if it makes you more comfortable.”  
  
“It doesn’t.” Light replies flatly, he hasn’t done much as far as kinks are concerned, but he certainly had seen his fair amount of porn. While he is inexperienced he makes up for it with the long list of disgusting things he'd like to try, especially if the man taking his sweet time to close the gap between them is involved. He offers a gentle smile, “Are you upset with me, L? Be honest.”  
  
“Why would I be honest to the person I suspect to have never fully told the truth?”  
  
“You’re not very romantic, are you?”  
  
“I’m not trying to be romantic.”  
  
“What are you trying to be?”  
  
“That’s for you to decide, I suppose.”  
  
They’re practically touching chests. The sexual tension overwhelming as they both lash at each other simultaneously. L’s hands dug into the sides of Light’s face while his hands wrapped around the nape of the other’s neck. Together they clashed teeth, gnashing at lips, pulling on tongues all the while hands feverishly were reacquainting with bodies. Suppressed anger tumbles into a very intoxicating arousal as L demands dominance, forcing his tongue down Light’s throat. He shows no mercy against guttural moaning, the fisting of L’s hair sending shivering down his spine. Panting heavily, Light breaks them apart to discard his partner’s shirt, humming in satisfaction as he runs his fingers down the chest he’s dreamed of for days. Taking extra care to pinch the other’s nipples he gets an abrupt slap to the wrists, his gaze switches from appreciating the half naked form to a domineering shadow gripping L’s features. He rudely takes Light’s upper arms into his hold as he marches him to the bed, roughly forcing him down into the mattress to promptly remove the v-neck sweater layered atop a perfectly pressed oxford.  
  
“I see you’ve been pent up.” Light mocks, lapping at an ear within tongue’s reach not expecting the fierce slap.  
  
Shock floods his expression as does blood between his legs.  
  
“What?” L slowly slides off his lap, reaching to toss off the lid to the box, “Change your mind about slapping in my absence?”  
  
“No…” he grins, “I haven’t changed my mind about anything since then.”  
  
“Oh? Good.”  
  
Hiding something behind his back he ravenously kisses him, savoring how breathless they leave one another. Kissing him is always an experience be it gentle and kind or rough and unforgiving, he loves Light Yagami’s mouth in all forms. Especially in the plotted display he has prepared.  
  
“Have you missed me?” L questions.  
  
His voice is back to that menacing tone. It enthralls Light. He doesn’t mean to smile, that gets another slap.  
  
“Answer me.”  
  
“Yes.” ,he involuntarily moans, recoiling from the impact, surprised at how he is pathetically melting for more punishment. He’s been brewing the perfect storm for L’s wrath in the bedroom, finally he’s reaping the benefits, he wants to push it as far as he can, “Yes, I missed you…but not enough to be waiting on your whims hand and foot.”  
  
Another hit. This time harder. He’s shivering at how good it feels.  
  
“I want your anger.” ,he moans, “I can get whatever I want from you, L. Don't deny it, don’t even try.” a third, a backhand on the other cheek, “Ah…I…I am the only one who can control you. Isn’t it pathetic, L? A great mind like yourself, reduced to an overly eager stalker working much too hard to win my di-”  
  
“Shut up.” ,he rasps, in a fury he thought was long dead. Dexterously, he lunges a ball gag between aggravatingly, erotic lips. He fastens it behind the antagonizer’s head, stroking the blockade on his mouth, “Good?”  
  
Light eagerly nods, his eyes wide with surprise his fingers testing the elasticity of the skin on L’s back. At a grievously meandering pace he drags that grip down the length of the other’s spine, gaining a delicious hissing exhale of pleasure from the man atop him. Through hooded eyes he holds back his suddenly demanding orgasm as he watches two pairs of leather cuffs leave the box. Capable hands flip him onto his stomach pinning him into the bed with a pointed knee as his wrists are forced into the restraints.He tries to continue the resistance as his legs are forced together, but gets a whitening stranglehold. Gasping around the gag he writhes in pleasure as L gifts him a taunting fondling of his erection through his trousers. That was enough to distract him from having his ankles rendered immobile.  
  
“Very well done, Light.” L murmurs against his ear, tracing the inner shell with the tip of his tongue, “You look beautiful…”, he palms the hardness before him, “Sit up.”  
  
He obeys watching in subdued eagerness as rope exits the box next. Following the previous command he forces his excitement to lessen, a strenuous task while being expertly tied up further, but it gave him something other than how much he relished in the increasing tightness around his entirety. No space was left unsecured. In minutes, bounds stretched across his chest, thighs and calves. Opening his eyes he discovers they had shut in concentration. He watches impatiently watches the detective mutely debate the toys in his hands.  
  
Taking notice of this surveying L flashes a small smile, it would usually test the coldness of Light's heart under other circumstances. But here, it elates him as he refuses to take his sight from the other procuring a roll of tape from the box, snapping off pieces as he talks, “Tell me…how many hours did you leave me without response after our escapade was so rudely stopped?”  
  
Obviously he can’t reply. Yet, he can scream out from behind plastic as nipple clamps are secured through his button up.  
  
“Too much?”  
  
Shaking his head he is forced back to the task of not climaxing prematurely as steady hands undo his belt and trousers to then slip off enough to expose his excruciatingly erect member. This garners a wicked smirk, “Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable.”, he instructs.  
  
Getting no immediate objections he takes his time to delicately tape what Light guesses is some type of vibrator to his balls. Nothing felt concerning until enamored horror grapples him at the sight of a cock ring being worked down his length.  
  
“No coming.” L reminds him.  
  
_‘You fucking bastard…you amazing…despicable bastard.’_ ,he curses, enjoying being topped off by another devise that fit on the head of his erection without tape but is kept secure with his attire being returned to their original state. The remotes attached to both toys is taped to his belt.  
  
Staring into Light’s eye he turns the electronics on, a gorgeous moan ripping out. He is almost sad that he can’t hear such a glorious sound without the muffling. Gently holding his face he tenderly strokes the captured’s jawline, “The answer is four hours and seventeen minutes.” ,placing a taunting kiss to his cheek he looses himself inside lustful, outraged honeyed irises, “I do wish I could stay and watch in person but….”

Leaving the bed he produces a remote from the nightstand drawer, clicking on the television now realized on the wall by the couches. Thankfully there is no audio of a lonely Matsuda scratching his head and calling Light’s phone, only to be scared of it coming to life on the desk behind him. Gazing over his shoulder he drinking in the tantalizing sight of wordless begging.  
  
“You brought this on yourself. See you in four hours and…” ,he checks the time, “..fifteen minutes.”  
  
Watching him exit, hearing the door close, Light wonders through maddening ecstasy who is the true criminal between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L really did say 'Here have your date rape SMARTIES you idiots.' 
> 
> If only he could replace ALL of the roofies. YeeeYEE that'd be dope.
> 
> Anyways. Here's the beginning of your kinky sex, IDK my friends are into some weird shit, I thought bondage was pretty *wild* until I had conversations and have had too many strange videos presented to me from Porn Hub to make me realize that bondage isn't ~that~ spicy. But Death Note has so much f u c k i n g BDSM undertones that's what fits these angy bois best yo.
> 
> Also I listened to a slow/reverb basically modern nightcore of el Tange de Roxanne and it gave me some BAD IDEAS expect some Wammy's kids in the next chapter or so-ish, this fic is going places and IDK if anyone is ready for it.
> 
> I'm v nervous about posting this because the dirty nasty...feedback appreciated. Response really plummeted since getting into the sex so either it le sucks oooorrrrr IDK ; ;


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eeeee philosophy of Kira featuring!  
> The worst time out ever!  
> Matsuda probably being banned from overnights if L has anything to say about it!  
> Low key plot somehow, IDK how it happened either, but yo the next chapter is gonna be W I L D
> 
> The writer also enjoys writing for Matsu way too much, I apologize in advance but not really, no one should ever apologize for Matsu content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK what happened here but here you go! :D
> 
> I hope the spicy is spicy enough? Or not too spice? I'm so nervous writing smut stuff, thank you guys for your feedback about this, I got like 50 things going on but I shall reply soon! I really cannot express how much the responses mean, I'm unhealthfully motivated to keep writing this for you guys! I'm also horrified at how long this shit is going to rock on for. 
> 
> Grab some snacks, kids. This bitch getting l o n g likemydiiiccckkkwhatttt

The absolute shock on Matsuda’s face when L slumped down the stairs into the lounge was humorous enough to garner a fairly unsuppressed smirk on usually relaxed lips. He poised a thumb against them to hide the emotion as he continued to the seat Light had occupied. Matsuda hardly had a moment to process, much less have time to ask why he was there before a mumbled explanation of, “Change of plans, Mr. Matsuda. I’ll be watching the news footage with you, Light is preoccupied with a unique task I’ve burned him with.” ,sated curiosity.   
  
Something in the manner he spoke insinuated a secrecy that instantaneously piqued the young detective’s interest. Remembrances of his boy’s night out with Light returns. He recalls the hickies on L and Light’s necks, hearing the truth to the bruises being a very inappropriate kink belonging to the task force leader. _‘Oh god.’_ Matsuda realizes as he unpacks enough to-go containers to feed two, _‘He doesn’t know that I know what he was doing the other night. I wonder if he’ll bring it up…or if I should? No, that’s super unprofessional. Workplace aside that’s pretty freaky information that I’m sure Ryuzaki would be embarrassed to know that I know. Ahhh! Of course he picks now and me of all people to have to spend hours watching the news with. I don’t know if I can handle this. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t like me, what would we even talk about? Will we talk? Should I fake sick? Does he-’  
  
_ “Is something the matter?” ,the man of internal turmoil inquires behind a text asking for an array of sweets to be delivered.  
  
 _‘Oh something is very much the matter, but you can’t know I know you think Kira’s hot enough to hire a freaking hooker of him! Or her? Could be either gender statically speaking since Kira 1 was theoretically Light, a man and Misa, a woman…I wonder if the hooker was a guy or girl? Does L like dudes or chicks? Is he more of a top or a bottom…it doesn’t matter! Stop thinking about that you really are an idiot. Come on! You can do this. You can be normal! Just act like you don't know anything. The task force thinks you're dumb anyways, this should be easy acting. Oh, but it's easier to act stupid when you don't know stuff! Goddamn iiitttt!’_ ,he confidentially agonizes.  
  
Settling into his meal he tears the plastic cutlery with a smile, “Nope! Nothing’s wrong at all!”  
  
His warbling decibels do not go unnoticed. L turns up the volume of the news to cover the discomfort. The new anchor, Ms. Takada, calmly explains a vehicular homicide.   
  
_‘Way to go you sounded like you’re going through puberty.’_ ,he chastises into a mouthful of penne and cream sauce. Everything is under a microscope from how he’s chewing, breathing, to how many times he’s blinking; the stress is magnifying. Couple that with the hamster wheel of Matsu’s attention span, the task of deviating from the conundrum of the fellow detective’s intimate life is to all intents and purposes, impossible. He was never diagnosed with ADD or ADHD. His mother always had a hunch but never the time to get him to a doctor or on proper medication. Her condescending side comments join the turbulent thoughts as he considers doing what she never could. Maybe if he had chemical support he would be able to act a bit more calmly or have a heightened acting ability. Chances are, like with most allergy medicine, it would be a wasted prescription cost.   
  
Poking at his entree he abruptly realizes Light’s meal growing cold in the bag. Whirling around he almost knocks Ryuzaki in the face reaching for it, dangling the would-be-assault-weapon he stammers out, “Ah! Uhhh…Light’s food! I know you said he's on some super secret mission thing but he skipped lunch and..”  
  
Precarious fingers prick the delivery to gain silence, “Thank you. I’ll be sure to bring it to him.”  
  
“Y-you might want to do it now. The lettuce gets soggy.”  
  
“From…what?”  
  
“The chicken?”  
  
He peers inside to be greeted by a grilled chicken salad behind fogged plastic, “I see…since when does he eat salads?”  
  
“I recommended it.”  
  
“And he listened to you?”  
  
“He didn’t know the menu.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
The meal is set on the desk as the other detective redirects his attention back to the screen. Ms. Takada now flashes a practiced smile as she transfers the discussion of a recent robbery to a leading anchor. She appears to be quite young for a newscaster. Keeping an ear to the broadcast he swivels to the computer, pulling up the information available on her. Nothing too strange aside from her rapacious appetite for success; having quickly worked up into the ranks of NHN in a short amount of time. Currently, she studies full time at To-Oh University while pursing a full time career. Her open support of Kira warranted her on his list of investigation, seeing her on the news for the first time only raised suspicion. He wonders if she and Light knew one another, or if Light would be willing to do some investigative work to get closer to her. A nagging hunch suggests she may either be targeted by Kira or by the expansive network of the hidden high society. By either party she would probably be manipulated into dirty work for Kira, reading through summarized statements given on earlier broadcasts she would likely comply.   
  
“We should do a more through investigation into Ms. Tadaka.” ,he notes to Matsuda while sending a brief message to Mogi, “It’s a little…odd that a woman so inexperienced is a newscaster.”  
  
“Not really. She’s _really_ pretty. And she's built up from somewhere at least since she's been on smaller production roles and in some entertainment stuff. The news no doubt put her on just to get male viewers. You know, since she looks at least twenty-five, but in a way that’s like ambiguous?”  
  
“Enlighten me.”  
  
“So she’s like a perfect twenty-something. You can't quite pinpoint her age. Although I think she’s either nineteen or twenty, despite looking like she could be anywhere between twenty-one or one of those thirty year olds that is super youthful. Sorta like Misa-Misa, she looks fifteen but is way older than that. Ms. Takada also has a good voice, and she’s single- another appeal to guys.”  
  
“You’re saying they propelled her career for additional newscaster sex appeal?”  
  
“Pretty much. Sex sells, Ryuzaki, I learned that real fast as Misa-Misa's agent! Not everything is some crazy deep complicated thing. But…” ,a pause is taken to clear his throat between bites, “…I guess it is kinda odd now that you mention it. Maybe you should ask Light about her, they go to the same university not to mention they-” , he quickly realizes the mistake about to happen and shovels in another mouthful of pasta, “-arecollegestudents.”  
  
“Repeat that for me. They are what?”  
  
“College students?”  
  
“You do know that withholding information could have you fired from this case effective immediately.”  
  
 _‘Light’s going to kill me…’_ Matsuda mourns as he sorrowfully swallows down the remaining food in his mouth, “Ahhh it's really nothing! Just gossip, Ryuzaki, you don’t care about Light’s love life.”  
  
“Oh, but I do.”  
  
“Why?!”  
  
An expectant look is the only response. Sometimes it is better to allow others to piece together their own insipid behavior than explain it.  
  
“Riiight…because you still think that he might be Kira.” , he uncomfortably chortles, “And his last girlfriend was maybe the second Kira.”  
  
The expression rises in confirmation.  
  
“I understand. Totally. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a very valid reason to be up to date on what Light’s doing with the ladies. But, as his friend, and as someone who firmly believes that he’s not Kira, I don’t think it’s right to further expose his personal life to you like this.” ,he crosses his arms proving his point, “I respect you, Ryuzaki, but it’s really pissing the task force off that you won’t let that theory go. If you want to know about Light’s past with Ms. Takada, then you should ask him yourself.”  
  
“Or I spare myself the conversation and you can do your job and tell me.”  
  
“It’s not my job to-”  
  
“Despite what you think, disclosing this information to me is not what you call ‘gossip’. This is an extremely high profile case, which is dragging on much too long because of its increasing annoyances, complications and newfound supernatural killing methods. That being said, your hiding this information incriminates not only Light but yourself. Are you understanding what I am saying to you?”  
  
“I got it! Crystal clear, okay? ...still doesn’t feel right though...Light and I went out the other night and we ran into Ms. Takada at the restaurant. She seemed annoyed at him and they kind of had a little argument about their past, since he kinda went missing from you detaining him and didn’t explain their breakup when he left her for Misa.”  
  
“She said this during their conversation?”  
  
“It was implied. Light explained it to me when she left. They were just dating around, nothing committed according to him when he and Misa got together. He said he never had a good chance to respectfully severe ties since stuff happened so quickly.”  
  
“Stuff?”  
  
“You _know_! Oh right, you’re just into weird things, not real romance, guess I gotta explain it to you, huh?"  
  
"Weird things?"  
  
Matsuda didn't hear him, "Follow along, so usually when people break up they make it pretty clear they aren’t dating anymore. Like they'll send a text or phone call or worst of all, finally come over to meet your mom and dump you in your bedroom."  
  
L cannot think of a worse place to be than where he is presently; nor can he recount how this rant started.  
  
"Anyways, in Light's case he and Ms. Takada were a low key thing. Not boyfriend-girlfriend, but you know, a thing. But then, Light had Misa come along, which I’m sure he had a rough time figuring out which woman he wanted more, Misa or Takada? I would personally go for Taki but we all know he want for Misa. Apparently he was going to tell Takada but then Misa got detained, and then he got detained too for a long ass time. It's a weird situation you know?"  
  
He inhales to speak but Matsuda continues on.  
  
"Just imagine it from poor Taki's perspective! She's a freshman in college, she landed Light, who heterosexually speaking, I'm confident enough in my sexuality to say, Light's really attractive. Like the man also has moves smooth as butter, god I wish I was more like him, actually. Anyways, she's got this amazing guy, probably has heard he might be into Misa, maybe sees them around then...BAM!"  
  
Matsuda punches an open palm. L recoils.   
  
"Mr. Perfect College Student he suddenly ceases all communication for months! Not to mention it's publicized that Misa-Misa is on a break! What does that make her think?!"

L retracts a finger from his mouth to respond but instead get another wave of enthusiasm.   
  
"She thinks he ran away with Misa-Misa to elope! No way would she suspect him to be under your personal surveillance for, what was it, sixty days?"  
  
"Fifty-three days."  
  
"Felt like seventy, if you ask me. So! He's out of confinement, finally able to talk to Taki again. But here Light is in the middle of a global murder mystery, chained to _you_ of all people, in a very kinda traumatic relationship with Misa-Misa now that you think about it, and it's just all sorts of crazy. Even if he did reach out, it would just be pretty rude by that point since so much time had gone by. Plus if she wanted to meet in person or if he wanted to let her down super nicely. I mean, it's Light, come on, he'd be a gentleman about it. He’d like take her to the park and deliver a nice, clean, charismatic blow. But he can't, couldn't, didn't?  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"My _god_ , Ryuzaki, _you're_ supposed to the be genius here! He was handcuffed to you! Not the greatest atmosphere to severe things! Still not as bad as meeting my mom and dumping me in my room, but that's aside the point. He said he let it just fizzle out. I doubt he even texted her judging from how low-key angry she was in the restaurant. Obviously she was still getting over it. Light isn’t interested in rekindling the flame though. Which I think is kinda stupid, but not my call I guess.”  
  
“I see. It does seem like a complicated affair.”  
  
“And I seem like the worst friend ever!” Matsuda whines.  
  
“At the restaurant, did they open a line of contact?”  
  
“Sort of? She tried to give Light her number but he pretty much threw it away."  
  
“Pretty much?”  
  
“He gave it to me. I’m too nervous to try to call her. It’s only her business line though, nothing you can’t get from a Google search.”  
  
“Anything else since then?”  
  
“Nope, it looked like Takada got her closure from Light. I think that’s what she wanted most aside from maybe getting back together with him. He made his dedication to the case pretty clear.”  
  
“He told her about the case?”  
  
“No, no!” ,he waves his hands around as a signaled truce, “He just said he was working on some police stuff on the side and was really busy. I think she got the hint. But was still pretty flirty if you know what I mean.”  
  
“Hmmm.”  
  
“Happy? Ugh, I feel like the worst.”  
  
“Don't worry, I won’t tell him you disclosed this information to me.” L assures him blandly as his requested dinner is wheeled in on a literal silver platter, “And if I do make it known that I am aware of the situation, I’m sure he’ll assume I got the details via surveillance not you.”  
  
“Thanks, I guess?”  
  
Savoring the lineup of expertly prepared desserts, L lifts up a fork to spear a berry atop a pastry. Their conversation-free eating resumes. He remains listening to the news whilst sending out messages to the required individuals to further the investigation of Light and Takada’s relationship. In an email to Watari he requests all phone records between them as well as any footage able to be acquired from the restaurant attended the other weekend. No stone would go unturned to throughly exhaust this potential lead. Furthermore, the communication between them would be strictly monitored should it ever reinstitute. Strange how his thoughts regarding Light used to only be consumed with the conflict of friend or murderer. However, as he sets the metaphoric hounds back onto the man once more, he cannot help but privately pray that the Kira he is sure to inevitably surrender to justice not be the one he’s been certain of for so long. Still, apart of him is thrilled by the idea of his hypothesis being true. It would reinstate his reputation once more in turn closing this case. With the development of the ravenous, greedy, untold community he is unsure the best way to finalize the case.  
  
When Kira is caught he cannot concede that individual in the way initially planned. A fair trial would not await the culprit, instead a bidding war for power would erupt in the underworld. They would tear one another apart for the dual prize- Kira and the notebook. According to conversations with those few sane figureheads fearing for the end of the world, more or less, the bidders are more than happy to obtain either half of the whole. The mind of Kira alone would be a weapon, equally destructive as the device the name wields; they know that. What truly worries L is what would occur should he try to prevent this. He is more than able to hide from them but, if he is seeking refuge from a world ready to bend to Kira’s ideologies, that would be another matter entirely. There would be no room for his brand of justice to live. He would be stripped from the prestige built up for years to be reduced to a nomadic execution target.  
  
 _‘Would you safeguard me, Kira…Light?’_ , he questions, _‘Or would I serve as a finalized example for a newfound society? Could I pretend to support you to only destroy you from the inside? Am I capable of such a crime? And the person I’ve been consumed by in the bedroom, what percentage is Kira and what Light? What additional information or utilization do you hope to achieve with our intimacy? Physically, I will gladly indulge you until I sign your death warrant. Emotionally, you may be the death of me if you find your way through countless walls. I chased the last person I cared for like this to his arrest. Do notthink I won’t do the same for you, despite our similarities being more precious to me than anything you could offer through touch or sentiment.’  
  
_ The plates on the tray are empty. Matsuda scrapes the bottom of the plastic bowl for the last morsels available. Typically the lounge’s quietness isn’t too cavernous, tonight it is as if they are on a barren stage with vacant pixel eyes baiting the team. A team that has read as more of an amateur hour than a real task force, if someone asked L his opinion on the matter. Although, notwithstanding all of the redundancies they have proven useful. At least they, for the most part, follow instruction which is a shockingly difficult job for many. He mostly humors this clamoring for Light as well as the limited police connection the members posses. Otherwise, he yearns to just be alone. It would be nice to not be caught between multiple games, all extremely challenging. The altercations enthralls him but the stakes continue to imminently climb.  
  
Checking his phone, L is surprised to see over two hours have passed. Beside him his co-worker blinks heavily at a late night talkshow debate on the morality of Kira. Tonight's episode is particularly special because they have welcomed individuals who have messages for Kira. Apparently these guests have had ‘divine judgements’ passed on those who have wronged them or a loved one. The program serves as low-key propaganda to showcase the positive outcomes of Kira on society. He isn't interested in watching such trivialities. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he hops out of the chair, "Watari needs me to look over confidential files that have been delivered. Can I trust you to carefully watch this until I return?"  
  
"Sure thing. Can you ask Watari to bring me some coffee?"  
  
"Of course.” , he sent a text to Watari then quickly made his way up to their shared room.  
  
Matsuda has ruined enough for him lately. He'd be damned if that idiot would catch him checking in on his captive not at all working on what was lied about. Earlier that day, he had asked for one of his laptops to be supplied to the room. Without question it sits on the small desk by the window. Crouching into the seat he daftly summons the absurd amount of camera feeds from the converted cell. Excitement overcomes him as he scans the many videos of Light in an atrocious state, as expected.  
  
The bound form now lies on the floor, rolling against another rising erection while laboredly breathing behind plastic. His brows knit in concentrated pleasure as he works to lessen the pain stretching across his pelvis. Even in grainy security quality he is gorgeous.Nerves dwell within him as he retrieved a microphone from the drawer. He hooks it up, already getting hard watching the way Light's hips move and twitch in unexpected waves of arousal. Muffled groans of protest is sensual music to his ears as he glances at the door, satisfied by the four locks turned into place before securing the line of communication to the room. _  
_  
He's astounded to find nervousness worsening as he rallies the courage to speak, doing so in a low, commanding tone. Adjusting his voice he envisions a better version of himself speaking, “Don't worry about the batteries wearing out. They're new and charged.”  
  
Light stops his tantalizing movements to jerk his head around to locate the voice. Quickly he figures it out and relaxes.  
  
"Look up at the ceiling so I can best see your face.”  
  
Exhausted auburn eyes shift up, the edge of his lip pulls up in a sarcastic welcoming. Rolling to his back he gazes up at what seems to be nothing. Chills run down L's spine, it's like they are face to face. His entirety aches to touch, taunt and torture the man nearly glowering at him. But he swore to himself that he would make Light endure the full four hours. Yes, that was dangerous as far as his genitals are concerned. But if Light is half as intelligent as he has proven to be, he’ll know better than to allow his erection to get too hard.If he values their sexual relations he certainly won’t climax. Zooming into the frame it is too dark to determine if orgasm has occurred, but he trusts Light to have behaved himself as far as that is concerned.   
  
“Don't worry about the batteries wearing out. They're new and charged.”  
  
An eye-roll.  
  
“I’d be careful of how defiant you are. Judging by the state of your bonds, you've somehow made them tighter.” , he tongues a thumb at his lips, "I'm a bit impressed by that."  
  
A muffled noise.  
  
“Are you done yet?"  
  
Fire returns to his spent features as his head shakes.  
  
He wants to stroke Light's cheek, “Very well.”  
  
About to shut off the devises an abrupt reminder stops him form doing so, "Oh, and Light, apologies for mentioning this so late in the game, but should you need this to stop for any reasons, go still for five seconds or snap three times. Someone will be there immediately to assist you.”  
  
He nods, adding a teasing moan as he rolls his hips up at the supposed camera.  
  
L bites back an auditory reaction, _‘I want to fuck you so badly. Do you want to be fucked by me just as severely? Are you aware of how dangerous you look on my computer screen, what a detriment to my concentration you have become? If this is Light Yagami’s strange seduction of me, I only wish you had instated it sooner. However, if this is Kira's scheme, what an effective tactic, you bastard. I wonder how long we can last without exposing the other's foil?’_ Now is not the time to dwell on such things, always remember who he probably is, but to extensively benefit this to the fullest extent, it will sway more favorable with maximum authenticity.   
  
Reluctantly he shuts down the operation to return to Matsuda, who is absolutely involved in the Kira program. His coffee now half consumed as he sips on it, giving an adoring smile to greet the restored comrade, "How was your files?"  
  
“That’s none of your concern, Matsuda."  
  
"Of course." ,he shyly laughs, "Well, this isn’t the shit show I was expecting. It's kinda, how do I word this without sounding like a monster, eyeopening? Like yeah, don't get me wrong, Kira, bad, awful, murderer, we are going to catch him or…her? Who knows, might depend on what you're wanting to hire…"  
  
"Hire?"  
  
“Imagine!” ,he almost yells, “Y-yeah! I'm pretty tired the coffee hasn't fully..hit…yet. Umm but the show, really interesting take on who has benefitted from Kira from a civilian perspective."  
  
"How so?”  
  
“Well, kind of like with Misa-Misa's parents, a lot of these people have been screwed over or almost screwed over by the judicial system. I mean it sucks that stuff happens, they feel like Kira is their justice when the world’s structure has failed them. Everyone is pretty convinced that Kira is god or some sort, or at least a divine being. To them that somehow makes killing criminals okay? I don't know, I'm not saying I agree but…there isn’t just bad stuff happening out there. Kira needs to be stopped, no question, but he's also provided some closure for people. Not only that but in some instances he has provided the justice deserved.”  
  
"Kira is an unfortunate individual, or individuals, who have encountered a cursed notebook. There is no room for divine commentary or justification in that."  
  
"Yeah, but…I don't know. All I'm saying is, Kira isn't entirely awful. I think whoever it is, be it a human or a death god, that there might be a good intent at the root of the evil, you know?”  
  
“Even if it originated from a place of honesty to help or better the world or society, as Chief Yagami said, it is still a world built up on fear and violence. I won't pretend to be wholly righteous, despite my thinking that I am in comparison to Kira, but I also refuse to accept this as anything less than what it is- murder.”  
  
“Maybe this Kira exists to balance the evil already established? We could simply be up against real divine intervention. Or..and hear me out on this one, Ryuzaki, it's existed for a long time and we have just now discovered it for what it is?! We could be cracking one big conspiracy theory! One that spans across our world and wherever the fuck shinigami are from!”  
  
“I really thought you were going somewhere with that." L mutters, directing his attention to the programming, a woman brims with tears as she recounts the brutal rape of her daughter and how Kira righted the wrongs done, “Regarding of your argument, we still reach the same conclusion; murder is murder, no matter the cause of action.”  
  
A thoughtfulness engulfs them as they reflect on one another's words. The mother bares her soul into the camera as sorrow stream down her face, hiccuped sobs interrupt a heartfelt thank you to Kira. He wonders if Kira, or in this case, Light, would watch these programs outside of the investigation. Should that be true, does he feel some form of validation hearing the voices of his budding worshippers ready to die at his feet? Could the world actually benefit from this forced revolution? Or would it toil in vain as it regurgitates a different rulebook to likely be consummated by human acquisitiveness, thus be reborn as the same putrid space prior? While philosophy is great reading material, L has never been one to enjoy mulling over the redundancy of it all. At the end of the day, he found philosophy exhausting and trying to find a greater need or purpose usually resulted in worse exhaustion. Years ago he found something to do; it wasn't a discovered fate. Nevertheless, the path he’s chosen to walk down certainly bridled him with an accidental sense of importance.  
  
"You know..I'm surprised one of these news stations hasn't gotten so ballsy as to get an actor or something to pretend to be Kira in order to get more views." Matsuda chimes, "Could you imagine that? Some person going on a program like this? That would be wild."  
  
"And it would also land them in a multitude of extremely dangerous situations, not limited to an extensive questioning and detainment from our own department, Matsuda.” L reminds him dully, "It's bad enough that we get fake calls and emails, imagine the chaos that would be celebrity impersonations of Kira. It would not only be abhorrently stupid, but disrespectful to the victims of Kira.”  
  
“Oh, right, I didn’t think about that…” ,he annoyingly smirks, “I wonder what, you know…Kira sex workers think of that?”  
  
L is nauseous. His intuition leads him to believe this is a jab at the compromising situation the moron to his right stumbled upon a few nights ago.  
  
“You know about them, right, Ryuzaki?”  
  
“…yes I know about them.”  
  
He wiggles an eyebrow.  
  
“And we are not discussing them further unless you have a solid, cohesive addition to provide that would lead to the capture of the _real_ Kira.”  
  
He visibly deflates.  
  
L can hear him mentally chastising himself. Good.  
  
“Locker-room talk is not my forte. Do not make me repeat that sentiment to you again, Matsuda.”  
  
“Got it.” ,he whispers as he inches his chair away, jumping a little too animatedly at the ending credits of the program next to the preview for a late night drama, “Whoa! Is it already over? That’s too bad, I’ve been having so much fun with you Ryuzaki, just two men…being…men?”  
  
“Please go to your floor. It will be less painful for both of us at this rate.”  
  
“Good idea! That’s why you’re the genius! Unbeatable, but not physically since Light punched you in the face a few tim-”  
  
“Have a good rest of your evening.” L dismisses as he feigns working into the night, turning back into his computer, retrieving files to litter the screens as a farewell.  
  
“You too, Ryuzaki! See you in the morning!” Matsuda chirps, “Oh, shit! We forgot to get Light’s food to him.”  
  
“I think Watari mentioned he ordered something else. Now, unless you plan to stay up late working with me, would you mind getting rest? As much as I enjoy your…company, some quiet would be appreciated.”  
  
“Yep. Sorry, was totally leaving…my bad.” ,he starts to do an awkward sideways walk up the stairs, “Okay! I’m finally heading out of here! See you bright and early!”  
  
Turning over his shoulder he shoots the meandering man a stern expression, concluding the painfully drawn out exit. Considering the less than fortunate timing that has befallen him he opts to hang back for at least thirty more minutes for a maximum statistical chance of having his evening lacking of Matsuda from hereon out.  
  
As the detective accidentally begins to lose himself in work the four hour and eighteen minute sentence has been served by the guilty, still writhing on the floor.  
  
He groans into the ball gag, pushing his face into the plush rug trying to spit out his own saliva to not almost choke for the umpteenth time this evening. His jaw hurts but enough time has passed to where it's almost numb. When this startling charade began he was willing to use his mouth to get what he wanted from L, now he prays that the man doesn’t want his cock sucked or anything of the sort. The hours he’s spent alone gave for a strange, bordering psychedelic experience of self control and internal entertainment. Initially he figured the threatened punishment of _four fucking hours_ to be left in this state was only for shock factor. However, as he stole side glances at the television broadcasting the assumed dominate of their physical relationship settling into work, he knew it was a disciplining of a lifetime.  
  
When L informed him of his ‘odd sexual tastes’ Light assumed bondage was on the table from how he imprisoned Misa and the handcuff observation. He was starting to become excited by what prospects lied ahead from the extremely creative use of a shower rod, and was ashamedly turned on to no end watching the wiry man shred towels apart to have his way with Light using his bare hands and a shaving razor. Things were becoming deliciously alluring with the mirror play, he relished in how heated he felt in unspoiled moments. Those were his reasons to antagonize his partner, to test his limits, play with him further and perhaps establish his own brand of authority between them.  
  
In this state he is the farthest from authoritative as humanly possible. He tried to free himself, mistakenly elated at the predictive image of shock on L’s face to return or check his stupid cameras to find Light lounging on the couch or pleasuring himself on the bed. Usually fate has favored him, but not when knot tying is concerned. In his squirming he made them worse but also fell off the bed in the process.  
  
While wracking his mental catalogue of sexual education, debating on if it is safe for him to orgasm with a cock ring on, or have it on for this long, he thought he was either going insane or was saved hearing L’s voice in the sound system. Throughout their one-sided exchange he prayed this was his kinky way of announcing his return. That proved untrue, as he presently debates snapping his fingers just to be freed due to his captor being over, what feels like, an hour late.  
  
He can’t see his watch. There isn’t a clock. Once this hellish erotic session is over he’ll be certain that one is installed, or at the very least a timer should be set so to avoid this happening again. His skin crawls at the idea of being caught be it by someone employed in the building or otherwise. Due to be the god of a new world, the last place he envisioned his plan to lead him was immobilized on the floor at L’s mercy. _‘Should the odds result to where I do not kill him, I’ll be certain to keep that asshole in a room like this. He’ll get my valued attention only when it conveniences me. No one else will know of him. The world will think him dead but really he’ll be kept under lock and key for my own whims.’_ ,he fantasizes wickedly, _‘Normally someone would find that treatment disgusting, but something tells me he’d be into it to some extent.'  
  
_ It’s been too many hours fighting orgasms, the vibrations are no longer registering. His lower areas begin to grow numb and soft. Claiming this curbed edge of pleasure, he absentmindedly tries to mouth off the gag. He also contemplates the possibility of L having a space in Kira’s empire.  
  
Originally, trying to sway the favor of the public was something he had not thought to tackle so soon, the game still fairly fresh. Yes, the world knew his name and was piecing together his mission, but for Mikami to readily ignite the flame for wider acceptance is bold. It’s a rashness Light would have considered irresponsible, but as the task force is watching day by day, the collective is surrendering to the true order. Would L be able to pledge himself to Kira? Would that be beneficial?  
  
Of course it would be, but will this hidden war be the event that turns out an immeasurable ally? Already his rival has converted his predicted cell to a private space for the both of them. No longer is he a supposed criminal under scrutiny, but a treasured indulgence to be worshipped. He would groom L into praising him, it would be unlikely that man could see anything other than the invention of granulated sugar as a god. Upon reflection of what has transpired thus far, it wouldn’t be too hard to get him addicted to a better substance. The man has shown a ridiculously transparent pattern of fixation. Vices aside, it’s evident that he is lonely, as are most of Kira’s followers. Just as with them, Light can fill that void for L. Whatever the cost, he’s willing to endure the worst to obtain the rarest prize.  
  
Imagine the absolute transformation of infinite systems should the devil side with god, what glorious space would be produced as a result?  
  
 _‘I need to stop thinking like this.’_ ,he scolds himself, _‘L is the only thing standing in my way. There is no way he will yield to me, or Kira. If anything he’ll fight to his last breath to see my end. Even if he is manipulated beyond recognition there is always the chance that he will betray me at any moment. I wouldn’t put it past him to use me just as deeply as I intend to with him. But…he is falling into my trap faster than I anticipated. He’s clearly becoming obsessed with me, be it just Light Yagami or the prospect of going against Kira in an intimate space. The plan has always been to eradicate him, but he would be more useful alive if he is compliant- no. He must be utterly obedient, at minimum unfalteringly loyal. It would be irresponsible to switch the plot to that, however, maintaining it as an option to thoughtfully pursue isn’t a terrible idea. Perhaps once these annoying needs are fulfilled I’ll think more clearly.’   
  
_Shifting of the exit snaps him from his contemplations. Turning his head to the side he drinks in the shadowed figure hunched and approaching. Each step he claims is languid, it aggravates him immensely. That frustration draws his arousal back as he tauntingly fights agains the ropes and cuffs confining him. Staring up at his carved face partially hidden in jagged, inky curtains the scheming bitterness of his internal condemning dissolves. He’s left as the whimpering, pathetic persona thriving on suppressed memories. _‘This is the only time I can gift this part of myself to you. I can tell who I was is what you want. Would you do this to that person? Is it Kira you’re wanting to punish or Light? I doubt even you have figured that out.’  
  
_ Eagerness prematurely saturates L’s features as he tenderly rubs a foot against Light’s groin. The impact instantaneously reawakening the sensational feeling to his previously desensitized genitals. Moaning into the plastic ball between his teeth he arches into the rubbing, thrusting more aggressively than intended. A small grin dances across the man’s mouth above him furthering Light’s descent into submission. He abhors how the weakness within is stronger than needed, unreservedly supplicating to any whim delivered. _‘Who are you touching?’_ , he wonders, _‘Kira or Light?'  
_  
The pressure increases to drag a low, burdened lamentation from him. His body trembles as he writhes against the waves of pleasure rippling throughout his body. Breathing becomes difficult once more he disregards all pride to voice a small, mewling plea. _‘I want you to kiss me. I want your tongue in my mouth. I want your rough teeth on my lips. I want to cry into your breath as you mercilessly fuck me. It’s apparent what you have planned, L. I’ve repented, you’ve unjustly exacted your revenge. Reward me. Please. I can't speak but I know you can hear me.'_  
  
It’s repulsive to have perverted thoughts undoing him so feverishly. He’s reached his breaking point.   
  
Another whine follows a febrile show of desperation.  
  
“You look perfect like this.” ,he murmurs, with his voice low, it dizzies Light. He is left defenseless as surprisingly strong hands hoist him from the floor, gathering his pulsing form into sinewy arms. Taunting kisses line his jaw, he squirms away in wordless banter to have his face held in place so L’s lips get their fill leaving the phantom dancing of furious suckling. Hot breathing fill an ear as fingers leisurely unlatch the buckle at the nape of his neck, “You’ve done so well, being so obedient while I’ve been working. Did you enjoy your time here? Have you…” ,the damned thing is finally off. Light gasps as he downs pooled saliva, never realizing it tasted as refreshing, “…had enough time to think about what you’ve done?”  
  
A rude smirk debates a sore jaw, “I’ve had time to think about a lot.”  
  
He moves to rest their foreheads together, “And?”  
  
“I’m not Kira, but if I were, you’ve certainly given me more motive to kill you after this mistreatment.”  
  
Vengeful fingers dig into the sides of his face as he’s guided back into the floor. All of L’s weight pushes into him as he snarls, “Keep talking like that.”   
  
He allows a pause for a response.  
  
“Go on. Do it. Speak your vile truth. See how it goes for you.”  
  
“Are you asking for a confession?”  
  
"I'm asking…" ,a bony finger ups the power of the toys between his thighs. Light produces a ragged shout, “...for you to submit to me.”  
  
“What gave you the idea I want to submit to you?”,he rasps.  
  
The intensity increases again, the toys at their highest setting. Wailing, moaned cries spill from the man beneath, head tilting back while fighting for some unknown favored position. The picturesque scene is observed for a few savored moments.  
  
“Do you want to submit now?”  
  
A guttural, feral moan passes as a reply.  
  
"I'll let you come if you submit. I’ll do more than that if you apologize."  
  
Destroyed honeyed eyes lock onto him, “...you're a bastard.”  
  
“Yes."   
  
The agitating sensory overload is overpowering. He completely demolishes all dignity as he crudely simpers, “…I’m sorry.”  
  
He’s given an unwarranted slap. When L wonders if he overstepped a hungry keen assures him otherwise.  
  
“Sir.” , he corrects.  
  
“Sir.” ,is panted back, “I’m sorry, _sir_.”  
  
Careful fingers stroke the reddened skin. He pushes his own hardness into the quivering tools of torture, “Do you submit to me?”  
  
“…yes.”  
  
Another slap asks for correction.  
  
“Sir!” ,he gasps, “Yes, sir…I submit to you.”  
  
“Thank you.” ,ready hands work off jeans and boxers, “Beg.”  
  
“For what, sir?”  
  
“Anything. If I like what I hear…” ,he pauses to lift his shirt over his head, “…then maybe I’ll do it.”  
  
 _‘You fucking bastard. You awful, wonderful, terrible man. How dare you…you have an idea of who I am…imagine your regret in the future…imagine mine…’_ ,he vexes as another wave of ego is discarded. “Please…let me come…” ,a hand raises in reminder, “Sir.” ,it hand lowers to remove the nipple clamps.  
  
“I want you to kiss me, sir.”  
  
The clamps clatter to the ground.  
  
“I want your cock inside me, sir.”  
  
Nimble hands unbutton his shirt, parting it behind tight ropes. A devilish tongue flickers across achingly sensitive skin. It is cooling, further shoving him into painful bliss.  
  
“I want you to suck me off, sir.”  
  
Unbound hips roll into his, haughty exhales convey satisfaction. He continues, Light watches him become terribly erect before the bastard abruptly stands up. His hand works to upkeep his arousal as he walks.  
  
Distress and panic tear through him. Lolling to the side best offers a view of L’s hand pleasuring himself as his free one rummages through the cabinets, “I want you, sir.” , he pleads, "L, fuck me! It’s been over four hours! I’m _begging_ you to fuck me…”  
  
The waiting builds an excruciating level of inflammation between his legs. If he doesn’t get permission release soon, surely he’ll implode.  
  
“L…” ,he practically sobs.  
  
Finally the man turns around, lubricant in hand.  
  
“You’re better than I could’ve expected.” ,he exhales in satisfaction, crouching beside him. A hand caresses Light’s face, deeply kissing him in a long, emotional way, “I’ll reward you.”  
  
“Thank you,” ,he shivers.  
  
He avidly unfastens the belt concealing his prize. Pulling down the garments to tied thighs, he hums in approval at the veins running up a ready member, rejecting the plaything at the head. Straddling him, L slicks his hand with lubricant. Efficiently, he starts to prepare himself while leaning down to resume the meaningful, languorous joining of their lips. With each break he’s breathlessly ready for more, enjoying the invigorating taste of Light, the taste immeasurable to any decadency imaginable. They both know they are terrible, however the chemistry erupting between them is anything but. The exchanges rack up to challenging clashing of lip, teeth and tongue. L’s free hand lashes out to fist in Light’s hair, using it to force their mouths closer. No matter how barbarously their proximity becomes it is not enough. Neither is fulfilled.  
  
Leaving dampened brown locks, his hand fondles neglected balls, eating up the delicious sounds perforating between his lips. Torpid kisses last longer as he pumps his member, gyrating himself down an overtly eager cock. Grizzling moans fill up his mouth as he finally settles atop Light, taking a moment to adjust the discomfort to alleviation. Reclining from him, L sits up allowing Light time to relish in the sight. Sweat already glistens, resulting him him pushing hair from his forehead.  
  
Seeing his whole face exposed like this coupled with total nakedness enthralls the one on the floor. Through tired, heavily lidded eyes he is able to capture the odd glamor of his greatest enemy atop him exposed to the utmost degree. With this hasty style, he could pass as a different person. As sharp hairs fall back over dark eyes, he appreciates L’s strange handsomeness. With some effort he could be quite gorgeous. But Light likes his appearance, it is his special propriety to have the luxury to lap up this deviation. The vision betters as a narrow pelvis grinds atop his throbbing cock.  
  
“I don’t know how long I can last.” ,he confesses.  
  
“Are you asking permission to come?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
A demanding strike resets their rules.  
  
“Yes, sir.” ,he hisses, holding back his orgasm, “I ask you permission to come, sir.”  
  
He revels in the words spoken, head tilting back as he rocks his hip violently, body becoming a ribbon as he rides Light too knowingly. It’s their first time divulging into this range of intercourse, but the way their physicality connects it's as if they’ve been at this for years. Pre-cum dribbles off as he wets his lips, “Go ahead. You have permission to come.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.” ,he weeps, back lurching into each slam onto his member.  
  
The toiling heat shoots out displaying hours of pent of lustrous patience. White hot ecstasy overtakes him as he convulses on the floor. He ferociously thrashes against his restraints, unintentionally ramming into the other’s prostate causing him to crumple whilst screaming in mutual gratification. Tangled in a grueling mess of howling, taxing rapport they passionately resolve one another’s finishing requirements. The instinctual clamoring and mutual compatibility allowing an indelicate conclusion to give way for physical fury to dissipate into a respective force. As the high descends, it leaves behind a wrecked pair succumbed to vulgar behavior. In breathing quietude, the actions exchanged transforms to a personal ghost lingering, teasing their endurance for more.    
  
Lying on the soiled rug Light is finally able to relax. Eyes falling closed he finds the expert unwrapping of his suppressions rather tranquil. Mindful touches apologetically rub at tender spots as the pressure is alleviated, particularly nasty places get the softest kisses he’s certain he’ll ever experience. Easing into the tenderness he stretches to verify working appendages. Unsurprisingly they are fine, albeit exhausted. What is of surprise is the arms scooping him into a wobbling frame, he cracks open his eyes to see a stark white chest against his cheek. Above that is an equally ragged counterpart trudging to the dual couches viewing a barren task force lounge.  
  
L takes notice to gift him a smile different from any Light has seen, he’s showing his teeth. It crinkles the edges of his sleepless eyes and accentuates his cheekbones. Somehow the expression adds maturity to him even as it relaxes to a complacent upturned line, wavering into a fine one as he maneuvers Light onto the couch. It’s a very expensive piece of furniture with a better cushioned landscape than most beds he’s slept on. L is true to his word, no expense spared in this creation of this sick room.  
  
Taking a spot on the floor, he drapes himself around Light’s face. Long fingers brush back sweat stained hair clinging to his forehead and around his eyes. That rare grin returns as a precursor for a heartfelt kiss, one that is plushly constructed of care. If he knew better he would label the intent behind it as love. Surely they aren’t there, it’s just the side effects of sex. A few more confusing exchanges transpire between them until L ends it to rest his face on Light’s chest. His fingertips spread then retract gingerly, “Are you alright?”  
  
He reaches to settle a heavy hand on a naked spine, “Yeah.”  
  
“…good.”  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Another rare experience erupts suddenly; L genuinely laughing, “Yes, Light, I’m fine.” ,he turns his face into the chest underneath him, the corner of his smile still visible, “Absurd of you to ask _me_ if…oh you truly are unpredictable at times.” ,sighing he peeks a sidelong stare, “Thank you for asking. Your percentage has gone down…five percent.”

“That’s all?! Fucking bullshit, at least ten percent.”  
  
“Nine.”  
  
“Eleven.”  
  
“Eight.”  
  
“Twelve.”  
  
“Seven.”  
  
“Thirteen. You’re a dick.”  
  
“Six. You seem to enjoy it.”  
  
They share relaxed crooked smirks at one another until L impulsively lurches to crush their lips together. Light whispers, “I do enjoy it.”  
  
“I know you.” ,he declares as he stands. Light isn’t pleased by how empty his body is as he watches the curved figure leave his line of sight.  
  
Resting his eyes he feels the wavering darkness of sleep tempting him when L’s presence is sensed by more than the dull thudding and crinkling of items on what he assumes to be the coffee table. L guides him upright which pulls him from lulling slumber. The salad Matsuda had gone to get sadly waits for him next to an array of fresher foods; the warmth of untasted flavors accelerating his furious hunger. Without warning, he bolts to a miniature mountain of rice and chicken. Snatching a set of chopsticks from the table he digs in, waking up progressively with each mouthful. L snickers beside him, offering ice water, that too is snatched demandingly.  
  
“Do you like it?”  
  
“I’d like anything right now.”  
  
“That's understandable.”  
  
Light has his fill of the to-go buffet, retiring into the couch with satisfaction. L joins him, allowing the man to curl into his side then guides them back onto the cushion. _‘He’s so warm…’_ Light memorizes, enveloped by the scent of sweat, sex and the natural odors wafting from his skin. It’s consoling. Already L feels safe, like the events outside this place doesn’t exist. _‘I like how he smells still, even though he’s filthy. I wonder how many other people he’s treated like this.’  
  
_ “So did you have a weird side gig as a male dominatrix or something?” ,he softly jeers, placing his lips to ample collarbones.  
  
“No.” L shudders, “But if you’re asking about my sexual history, I’ve only ever been with one other person aside from yourself. No need to get jealous.”  
  
“I’m not jealous.”  
  
He peers down at him with a nonexistent brow raised, “No need to be so serious either.”  
  
Red glows on Light’s cheeks as he averts his face into the crook of L’s neck. Affectionate hands rifle brown hair, his low tone rumbles in Light’s ear, “…that was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that with someone else though.”  
  
This pleases him.  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“I thought you investigated my sexual history.”  
  
“I’d like to hear you say it.”  
  
Normally he’d be uncomfortable to admit his virginity prior to their escapades, but the serenity of the afterglow assures him that this is the real L, whoever he is in the stripped, raw state, and Light, “I fooled around with guys in high school, some girls in both high school and college. The situation was never ideal to go very far or as the physicality progressed I got, I don’t know, grossed out by the person I was with? I would loose interest once they were more into me. It’s odd but nothing ever happened, which I’m sort of grateful for.”  
  
“Why is that?”  
  
“Because it let me loose my virginity to someone who I doubt I’ll ever be bored by.” ,he can hear L’s heart rate climb, his breath catch, now is an ideal time to resume planting the seeds of deception, “I think I’m pretty lucky to have been able to give it up to the first person I’ve fallen in love with.” ,L isn’t breathing at all. His hold around Light is increasing. Light beams at him, unleashing the constantly suppressed authenticity, “I love you, but like I said previously, you don’t need to love me back. Just let me know if my saying it bothers you.”  
  
“I don't want to take advantage of you.”  
  
“You aren’t.” ,he vows while drawing closer, “You could never.”  
  
L strengthens the embrace, turning to his side to coil against him as if to provide protection. They entwine into each other once more, fitting back together flawlessly. As Light drifts off to sleep L is kept awake to watch the first of the task members filter into the lounge on the television screen. He enjoys every minuscule trait of Light in his arms, even able to ignore the irritating need to bathe them both. Internal panic immobilizes him as he debates the manifesting entanglement of deciphering right from wrong, truth from lie.  
  
 _‘You’re allowed to be happy.’_ Watari’s words echo again.  
  
He shuts his eyes tightly, refusing to even consider shedding a tear. Not over something like this. It’s likely fake, it isn’t possible for someone as perfect as Light Yagami to want him outside of a murderous rationale. Under other circumstances they wouldn’t exchange polite exchanges out of cordial requirement much less be in a paralleling nude recreation. Even if he is innocent, it is almost proven that the man in his arms is at minimum the catalyst for this notebook rapture. He would have to jump through ridiculous hoops, perform like a jester to have Light remain by his side. Presently it seems worth the tribulations, but will he have these same opinions after they’ve washed off their perversion?  
  
In his sleep, the man shifts closer. A few instances they shared accidental intimacy like this while chained, resulting in feigned ignorance. Never would he have expected they would be joined again, feeling just as naturally as they had. That was a different person in those times, this creature wears the face of the past, but it soon will fade to the suppressed cruelty too often lurking in Kira’s eyes. _‘Do you turn the power on at will? Does the notebook reset you?’_ L wonders if giving the notebook to Light would result in a favored outcome.  
  
Considering the standing history he rules it to be improbable.   
  
Mindlessly massaging a bare shoulder, he surrenders his thinking to hopefully recharge for the upcoming day. Already it is day eleven of his experiment, the knowledge leading his heart to drop in anticipation of the outcomes lying ahead. For now he can spare an hour or two to vacation here, exclusively in that allotted schedule will he humor the fictionality of love, reminiscing of a life lost long ago. Solace is not designed for him, he’s known this since birth. Unfortunately, the humanity in him refuses to abandon hope that these horrid behaviors are free of malice. That on this couch he maybe has some sweet, ideal story where they tumbled into a passionate romance of two people who have simply found each other, nothing more complicated. It is bland but in that dimension they are not two geniuses battling it to the death but mundane humans finding complexities in the everyday venture  
  
Perhaps in that reality they are happy. According to theoretic physics there is an L Lawliet and Light Yagami nestled against each other exhausted from everything but the complex game constantly absorbing their time. And in that timeline, the boredom doesn’t exist neither does the pain. That L Lawliet isn’t afraid of silly things like romance, he’s a man who is able to process and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't catch feels, L. But also, catch feels, L, everyone's here to witness the not-breakup-inevitable breakup of the century aha. :D
> 
> God bless Matsuda's relationship basics, he means well, that sweet, sweet himbo of a mans. Despite catching L post-sex he's so bold to assume the detective doesn't know jack shit about relationships. Which, he's right, L wants to be here for a good time not a long time but too fucking bad SON.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real slim shady of chapter elevens where we have:
> 
> two stupid gay detective bois breaking furniture trying to distract one another as our main course with a side of, a potential concussion  
> For the Near haters our kitchen staff recommends, the inclusion of Wammy's children on a high profile murder case
> 
> As an intellectual refresher chase the impending fucking shit storm of introducing genius battery and chocolate eating fucktards with the palatable Kiyomi Takada living her BEST Faye Dunaway Network life and Watari still being too old for this bullshit. 
> 
> And for dessert we have intermittent kinky sex, some heartwarming gross and L wishing he didn't have the ability to write anymore?
> 
> Thank you for dining in, we deeply appreciate your Yelp reviews, they continually aid in the production of fine literary cuisine
> 
> Lol there's nothing fine about this shit RIP

Meetings have never been particularly interesting. They could only last about fifteen minutes if the muddle-brained corporate heads didn’t have to openly play their redundant charades in front of an uncaring audience. Thankfully, in the television business a lot of these gatherings are rather to the point as far as production is concerned. However, since shifting into the public eye, Takada has a duty to attend more cordial clamoring than before. It has been a pretty entertaining spectacle if you’re into middle aged men with the rare female piece squabbling behind wine glasses about ratings, improved plans intermittent with verbal boxing about monetary pissing contests. Personally, she mentally dines on the blatant cards being flashed left and right. People are so very easy to read a few glasses in at two in the afternoon. Normal bystanders might tune out the debacles of the overtly wealthy, but Kiyomi ramps up the volume while easing into the mask of uncaring yet still available budding newswoman. It is the greatest classroom she could every be placed into. She is a voyeur to an exclusive habitat not even reachable to some twice her age; irregardless of the toxicity engulfing her considers the situation extremely lucky.  
  
At least, she did until the union of Kira. No longer is she a thankful student patrolling the upper percentage of the world for their wisdom, she is a cardinal goddess preparing her chessboard.  
  
These are ideologies she swirls around as these suited figureheads blow overpriced, packaged air up one another’s rectum. Unfortunately, today’s topic of discussion is not politics, stock markets or natural disaster which typically yield magnificent contemplation. This subject is very special, very unique and very infuriating.  
  
Today’s concept is Misa Amane.  
  
Kiyomi wants nothing more than to snap the cup off of a wine stem to ram the spiked glass into her eye of choice as another scantily clad image of the blond bimbo flares onto the overhead projector. All three women, herself included, are carbon copies of sated appetites full off the genius gymnastics to correctly ogle the celebrity.  
  
They complement her as if she’s in the room, which she isn’t.    
  
Their eyes practically weep as if she is readily poised to catch their disguised simpering pleas of a one night stand, thankfully she is not.  
  
Eager veiny hands wring in nervousness like Misa herself was bubbling with anticipating to hear the next step in their oh-so-clever proposals. It is unlikely her intelligence is able to fully grasp the embellished concepts.  
  
Flashing one of the producers a silent warning, Kiyomi clears her throat, “We only have a few hours until tonight’s news. As much as I love hearing about the idea of Misa Amane performing live, I do think we are over evaluating this development.”  
  
“Agreed.” Producer Woman One formally laces her fingers atop the oak desktop, “The live talent has been approved, honestly I find it a very refreshing. It's a smart choice to boost not only our views but deviate our audience from the atrocity that is Sakura TV. Should it stay, our big announcement today will only drive statistics higher, but surveys say we are a little too cold of a platform. I propose we go ahead and submit the offer to her management, if they have any hesitancies regarding the matter…” , she releases a cocky laughed exhale, “Well. Once _that_ news airs and Miss Amane’s agency denies her appearance, I would suggest she get a new team.”  
  
“Very arrogant of you.” Mustache Producer drawls, shifting in his seat. Kiyomi suppresses an eye roll; men are disgusting, “That is assuming that the public even likes Takada for this position.” ,his piggish gaze slides to the newscaster in question's chest, “Yeah, she’s good but…I am hesitant to go live with this announcement. Are we certain that this really is Kira?”  
  
“Yes.” Kiyomi replies, “We were all there when he contacted us. All of us saw the death be confirmed in real time. It’s very prudent of you to still doubt Kira’s claim.”  
  
“I doubt the authenticity.” Mustache Producer yawns, “It seems too…I don’ t know. We've had two Kira’s publicly dueling in the past, one of them was just a police fake. Plus that dumb stunt by that stupid detective and his team that led to what? A cold case for the public that we had to write off as a hoax car chase that resulted in a ‘fatality.’ What a load of crap! I saw we go with the live entertainment, hell, why not let Misa be the face of Kira? She would be a great choice. Her numbers are even higher due to her breakup, she’ll rake in the male viewers for sure!”  
  
“I agree.” ,the new CEO slyly grins.  
  
He is some new blond man from BBC but Kiyomi has her doubts. He slammed onto the NHN scene too abruptly, too suddenly. She has only had a backseat dealing with the detective L and his task force, so she cannot speak from much experience. But this man reeked of the style she saw through the shit storm that was Sakura TV’s Kira Special. Her friend interning in the mixing room told her more than Takada herself observed. It was an underground newsroom frenzy. There were specialized police cameras everywhere according to another friend who works on police footage. She is one of few who knew what happened that night, who knows of the apparent monster who took Higuchi’s life, leaving a set of killer notebooks. Her friend that told her was sworn under an international NDA. Kiyomi refused 'no' for an answer and dangled a promised starting position at NHN to get what she wanted. A careful discussion with Mikami confirmed the strangest knowledge of all; the existence of shinigami.  
  
To continually build a world pitched against L, she yearned for that footage. Unsurprisingly, L has it under lock and key, buying out all copies and Demegawa's word to not leak the story. Not too long after, the BBC CEO made himself present, claiming to be a representative wanting to connect networks to further the word of Kira on a global scale. From other conferences, she knew for fact that the highest in command supports Kira, not simply for the television fame, but also the breeching religion. The way he behaved is too poised, something about him, how he looks at those around him, gives her a sense of unease. It is all too plotted.  
  
“However,” the BBC CEO resumes, “, as shocking as the message from Kira this morning was, I think we need to have more time to sort our side out. I propose this: have our big announcement be our live nightly show.” ,he flashes a charming smile to Kiyomi, “I see you getting tense, Miss, don't worry I wouldn't dare dampen your big night.” ,she curtly smiles back, “Let's lock Misa down as our first guest, make Kira approachable, but still respectable. We don't need to belly roll with childish theatrics like our competitor. That way when we do announce our connection to Kira, there will be a place for it. The nightly entertainment show can serve as a platform for Kira related content only.”  
  
Glasses Producer eagerly bobs his head in agreement, “Yes, yes, this all sounds good to me. It will allow us to best gauge our audiences' reaction to the news as well. It's a very hefty claim, we cannot just drop this bomb immediately like Kira wishes. Other...benefactors must be informed. Doing this so rashly may be perceived as treasonous.”  
  
The room rumbles with congratulatory mutual agreement until the BBC CEO tosses in, “What if...we reach out to the idiot detective you mentioned?"  
  
Pinstripe CEO frowns, “L?” ,he swallows down the last of his afternoon wine, “No chance."  
  
"Why not?” BBC CEO questions.  
  
“Because…" , he growls, “Conversation, if you want to even call it that, with L goes all of one way; L barrels in with his demands, throws his money and connections in the right slots and collects what he wants. Personally, I don't like the guy."  
  
“You're acquainted?” BBC CEO’s brows raise.  
  
“Hah, no, but I got friends in high places that do. And I've been here from the start of the Kira case. I can tell you outright, he's not worth the trouble. Although, with such a big thing like saying we are talking to Kira directly, I expect him to stomp out that fire really quick. The later we get in contact, the better. Hell, we should just lock him out of the matter altogether if we want to support Kira. L isn't working with the police anymore, my sources say the ICPO aren’t big fans of him either, he's a dying cause.”  
  
"Ah," ,the BBC CEO settles onto his elbow, “Well, I see what you mean. I thought we were neutral at the root of all of this and that the Kira feature was just to uphold relevancy? Are you saying that NHN is pledging loyalty to Kira?"  
  
“Absolutely.” ,one of the congregation shadows declares, a stoic man that has always been the one to call these people together, but never has spoken much less hardly attended. Kiyomi assumed he was a man so important that if she had to ask who he is she would loose her position for being either so ignorant or so bold, "Leading from that topic, I have an announcement of sorts to make pertaining to that matter. Anyone lower than the ranking of CEO, leave the room. You are dismissed. The results of this meeting pertaining to your remaining tasks of the day will be sent via email within the hour.”  
  
Kiyomi wanted to protest. How dare they? She is to be the goddess of the world! These mature children believe they have some hand in constructing while the unseen truth is that they are nothing more than pawns in a god's game. Taking the smallest moment, she steadies herself, gulping down the composed mask of a perfectly poised newswoman. It would look odd of her to put up a fight to stay.  
  
Politely gathering her small stack of paperwork, she gives a quaint bow, then exits along with the others. One of her assistants eagerly falls into pace at her side, "What do you think they're discussing in there?”  
  
“Most likely something about Kira.” Kiyomi smoothly replies, "Or L."  
  
“Why L?"  
  
“Isn't it obvious? If NHN is going to make a firm claim of supporting Kira, which given that we are the network he's chosen, L is going to do all in his power to weed out our connection to Kira.”  
  
“You're right...I wonder why L hasn't quit by now? I mean, yeah, there are some evil aspects to Kira, but I'd say he's mostly good."  
  
"Mostly?"  
  
"Killing is still killing. Why does a criminal's life have any lesser value than ours?"  
  
"Because, we aren't criminals. We haven't chosen to murder or rape or destroy. Kira is righteous.” ,she decidedly shrugs paperwork to the assistant, “By the sacrifices Kira makes to clean up our world, he is taking upon a divine burden to pave a way to a better future. If you cannot see that an example must be made of the wicked,” ,a mocking chortle, ",then I'm sorry. You may want to work for another news station if you want your morals to align with your occupation.”  
  
A few paces of silence are enjoyed before another question is poised.  
  
"Do you think L will win?"  
  
“No.” ,it isn't an opinion, it is a statement, “If he's as smart as he claims, he’d crawl back to the hole he came from."  
  
"Wow, that's harsh, Kiyomi."  
  
“I won't apologize for damning the person wanting to tear down true justice. Not only that but, he wants to dismember a revolution. All I see is an immature figure behaving out of some constructed mortality, not from a passion stemmed from goodwill of other people. And if this L has any goodwill, it is clear he reserves it for criminals.” ,she opens the door to her meager office, pausing to gift a taunting smile to her underling, “I'm sure when Kira rises victorious L will enjoy himself when he's put behind bars with the rest of his kind. Now, was that all you wished to discuss or are there other matters?I would love to indulge in a further debate, but I have classwork I'd like to complete before we go live." **  
**  
The assistant shy rubs at the back of his neck, “Nah, that’s it...sorry for getting so deep. It's my first time in one of those meetings."  
  
"Yes, well…my apologies for being so stern. You've been a quick learner since joining. I appreciate your help."  
  
“Thanks!" ,the assistant beams, "Anything else I can do for you?"  
  
"Actually, some Advil and water would be great. I need something to alleviate the headache of seeing Misa for an hour straight."  
  
"Just wait until it's the real thing!" ,the newbie jokes, the sharp expression stalls the remainder of his jesting, "I'll get right on that!"

"Thank you."  
  
The door clicks closed as he leaves, allowing her to deflate ever so slightly into her stiff-backed office chair. Turning on her school laptop she opens the online learning platforms, scrolling through emails, feedback, all the grueling busywork. She has half a mind to quit, or at least put it on hold until her career was a bit more stable. The idea is undeniably enticing however, the notion felt like defeat. Light has switched to mostly online classes last she heard, not that she was keeping tabs on him or anything. If he can do it, so can she.  
  
Her heart sinks at the thought of him in the restaurant the other evening. He was a phantom on campus, Kiyomi scarcely caught a glimpses of him. So seeing him unexpectedly sent her to a strange, vengeful impetuous state she is secondhand embarrassed of. _‘Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to him…I’m sure I seemed like the shallow ex trying to get back at him. He also recently had a breakup and was clearly with a co-worker…’_   
  
Groaning she pinches the bridge of her nose as if to will the image of him dimly lit, in a fairly nice business casual suit at that accentuated his shoulders immaculately…he seemed older, more mature, something aged him. As forecasted, he really was evolving to be ideal Husband A and B material.  
  
‘ _I cannot think about him like that. His…ex-girlfriend is going to be the first featured guest at my headlining show.’_ ,a smirk pulls at her lips as she switches into autopilot to reply to professors, _‘What a sight that would be, Misa guesting at my show to see Light greeting me after cut is called. That would be…stop it, Kiyomi. The way he talked to you was incredibly…adroit. He was being the ‘nice guy’ and letting you have the closure you wanted. Light doesn’t care about you, he got caught up with his celebrity girlfriend and his hobbyist police work, you weren’t a priority, you certainly wont’ be one enough for him to perform a fantasy like that.’_ , she rests her jaw on the back of a curled fist, _‘When this is all over…when Kira assumes his power and Mikami and I step down to devoted gods of the sidelines…would Light be willing to assume the honor of being by the goddess of the new world’s side? He was always so…prideful, its unlikely. But still…how humorous would it be if the goddess, who can get whomever she pleases, is still left in the cold of Light’s…I really need to get a benefits situation going on. Pining after Light isn’t very becoming. I should see him as beneath me after the other night.’_  
  
The donning question of ‘where?’ looms over her. Where would she even find a lover? No one in the new station was up her ally, except maybe BBC CEO man but he gave her the strange ‘L Impression’ causing her to not trust him at all.   
  
A wider smirk posses her features, _‘…I could always find out if he is authentic with my own…methods.’_ Finalizing an online critique of an essay she wordlessly takes the medicine and water magically provided by her assistant, _‘He was so kind as to spare my show’s announcement tonight, after all.’  
_  
—-  
  
It’s a big day for L.  
  
Its day thirteen and he was almost late to his own experiment because his prime suspect did not want to cease pulling his hair every chance the ebony locks were within range. He had tediously scheduled for the evening to be packed to the brim with all sorts of sexual activities that would leave Light spent well into the next day. While L may be mildly experienced in the ways of masturbation and one prior lover; he was nearly no match to the apparently endless appetite of a recently expired virgin given a literally playground to do whatever he pleases. The detective had a plan to keep Light utterly exhausted so he could best sneak away to perform his experiment without any risked interruptions. He doubted that the information found its way to Light, but always better to be a little over cautious. Besides, it was a great excuse to release suppressed anxiety over the inevitable.   
  
The duo had already been painstakingly close out of investigative purposes, and for those same purposes, at least as far as L saw it, they’ve only tightened that bond. When they aren’t inseparably pouring over catalogued information, or reviewing surveillance or secretly embracing on the lounge couch as they steal glances up the stairs late at night watching Kira news propaganda, the couple is raging out their pent up aggravated desires in either the hidden room, their shared room or even a barren hallway.  
  
Watari had a small meeting with L yesterday bluntly stating that ‘hallway intercourse is now _strictly_ forbidden and _inarguably_ unnecessary.’  
  
He couldn’t help it. He knew of his susceptibility to addictions, which doesn't even scratch the surface of having to accommodate his partner’s invigorated enthusiasm. Light’s hands have proven incredibly dangerous. Any time they can find their way to L’s body they never fail to either nearly send him into cardiac arrest out of not seeing the advancement in time, or risk the covertness of their affair. The boldest he’s gotten is the hallway. Second boldest was a public ass slap that was very loud and did draw attention to their end of the task force den. L still demands some sort of prize to reward his cover up of the murder of an invisible bug on the desktop.  
  
Their physical bantering continues to climb to newer, more adolescent heights as time progresses. L finds himself genuinely enjoying the moments snickering while launching himself into a counter attack of whatever the hell Light has decidedly lain out to test their boundaries. But as he came down from those heights, typically rolling on the floor, bed or, yes, the hallway, the realization of who they are always came crashing down to ruin the authenticity.  
  
Light could always tell when that hit. The apparent criminal would always hold him a little tighter, kiss him a bit gentler- like he was apologizing for what’s becoming of them. It felt so damn natural. That makes the pain all the worse.  
  
After the nightly broadcast, a task now befallen unto Light and L out of sheer commodious circumstances, they escaped to the private room. Immediately, they were a clashing mess of mouths. Mutually they dove into scratching and practically tearing one another’s clothing off. Once they were mostly naked, he preferred to keep his jeans on while their escapades drew out. With a fistful of chestnut brown hair he marched Light to the couch.   
  
Bending him over it he growled, “If you move, you’ll regret it.”, before retreating to the cabinets containing the tools for their first round.  
  
Upon return, the arrogant prick was cockily reclining on the opposite couch with his stupidly gorgeous face propped by his hands behind his head. The grin he wore was enough to reduce L to a horny befoulment, hard enough to throughly fuck him without the premeditated foreplay.  
  
“I see you’re in the mood for regret, this evening.” ,he snapped the rope between his hands, straddling his victim, “You’ll be incapacitated by the time I’m through with you, Light.”  
  
Truly, he meant to make good on that threat. He secretly studied very hard on proper, interesting ways to tie someone to a couch. Judging from the moans of punishment, he did an adequate job postponing the first ejaculation. The pathetic pleading was especially indulgent and worsened to begging once the spanking was integrated. Initially he was worried it was taken too far so he paused garnering horrid pleading for the treatment to resume. Promptly L rewarded and toyed with his partner for an hour more until the beseeching was overwhelming, threatening premature climax.  
  
Finally concealing himself inside the other, he came harder than anticipated. HIs face was buried deep in the crux of Light’s neck allowing an all encompassing aroma of all the scents that heightened the experiance.   
  
His fingers still hurt from how tightly he gripped the rope across the other’s torso.  
  
Their rest was short lived. Keeping his object of entertainment bound, L displayed the full capabilities of the four poster bed frame and why the furniture he purchased was and is better than any intended for sex. Deferentially replicating the instructions from a watched shibari videos, he was rather impressed with how he was able to suspend Light above the mattress. Not because of the lacking destruction of the furniture, he had the bed especially made for this, the frame was steel and bolted to the floor, but that his burning arms were able to adequately drag him up. That's the magic of fulcrums.  
  
His award came in the form of a true smile, contorted to the side from the angle he was hanging, but no less beautiful. “I’m impressed as always.” he grinned.  
  
Leaning across the ropes L stole kiss after kiss, signaling a close by gagging him. Muted cried moans were music to his ears as he teased him to orgasm. As Light recovered, he made him watch the dominant one get himself off. The suppressed need in Light's eyes drove him mad. It was erotically evident how horridly the tied man wanted to be the one providing the conclusion instead of a vibrator at his balls and L's hand spasming the length.  
  
Round three consisted of Light being lowered to an angle offering better entrance. L tested his pain tolerance via the flogger, paddle and a riding crop, itching to touch himself to the haughty exclaims asking for more.Additional discipline presented in the form of precise kicks to the ribs, which too, were demanded at increased impacts. Fearing he was going to break bones, he concluded the session to remedy his aching erection inside the other. Climbing to another indulgence of ecstasy he almost made a fool of himself when his knees almost gave out at another violent expulsion. With his breath caught he kissed down Light’s back he untied him gingerly. He asking forgiveness to chaffed wrists and ankles with small patterns traced by his tongue. The skin tasted metallic, some blood was drawn in a topical rash.  
  
“I’m sorry." he whispered, failure seeping in.  
  
“I’m fine.” Light murmured, gathering L in his arms, melting their mouths together that would lead to a half hour of lazy kissing.  
  
Their limbs felt heavy as they halfheartedly yanked the sheets around their naked bodies. Locked away in that room the world really did not exist. Scarcely did it seem to matter when they were alone. It was as if they basked in their own reality. Sleep was pulling at L’s awareness when Light quietly asked, “Can I ask you to tell me something no one else knows about you?”  
  
“That’s-"  
  
“I know what it sounds like. I figured your answer would be no, but wanted to try anyways.”  
  
“Why do you want to know?"  
  
He shrugged, “I mean, I guess I already know a lot about you that no one else knows given…” ,his eyes rolled to their surroundings, “You know. I don't know, I had a girlfriend ask me this once.”  
  
“Who was she?”  
  
“Just some side thing, never serious enough to tell the family about. We went on three dates before I got bored.”  
  
“You’re a…what did Aizawa call me under his breath?”  
  
"A dick?”  
  
“That.”  
  
A laugh, “Alright, Mr. I Have An Entire Building Dedicated To My Investigation.”  
  
He didn’t know why he humored this, but there was a lot about him that no one but Light knew. Even if the other confessed to being Kira, L sensed an unspoken rule, like it wouldn’t count in that room. This space is off limits to the world. What he said wouldn’t incriminate the case, just his emotions. Inhaling deeply he steadied himself to evenly say, “What sort of thing do you want to hear?”  
  
“Anything. Something innocent.” Light rolled to where he was holding L, studying him while playing with his hair, “For example, when I was a little kid I used to sneak downstairs to watch the news at night.”  
  
“…why?”  
  
“My mom thought it was too violent. She was weirdly stressed about my dad's job at the time, I think he was working a high risk case. So hearing news reports about police involvement didn't help.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Apparently I would think every officer there was my dad and it would almost give her a panic attack.” ,he shook his head, “Dumb kid things. Looking back I can see why she banned it from me for awhile. I got my sister onto it too.”  
  
“That’s rather unfortunate for her.” ,he moved to lie on Light’s chest, massaging a redness on his bicep, “Why did you want to watch the news?”  
  
“I wanted to brag about my dad being on TV. One kid’s dad was randomly interviewed and it was a big deal at the time.” He kindly smiled, dropping the piece of hair in his hand, “Your turn.”  
  
“Well…” L exhaled, acting as if he didn’t already have a memory selected, “As a teenager I ran away for a brief period of time. No one knew about it though. Not even Watari since he was away dealing with personal matters at the time.”  
  
“For how long?"  
  
“Barely twelve hours. I knew the risks, but needed to do something in person for a case…I solved it though. Almost died in the process, obviously didn’t.”  
  
“Oh damn, and here I thought I was having sex with a cadaver.”  
  
“You’re really not funny, Light.”  
  
“I got you to laugh once.”  
  
“Yes, when you were being un-funny.”  
  
“Still funny.”  
  
“Situationally humorous, at best.”  
  
“Can you accept your loss a bit more respectfully? Sore loser isn’t a good look on you.”  
  
“I didn’t lose anything, there wasn’t a competition.”  
  
“But if there was, I would've won.”  
  
“I will punch you if you keep this up.”  
  
Comfortable silence engulfed them. Tangled in one another they stayed like that until casual roughhousing turned into an attempted sixty-nine-ing that resulted in floor sex. Panting and half-asleep L peeled Light off the floor, shoved him into a robe and drug them up to the shared room. He needed him deposited someplace he could sleep off the night and L could run off to pursue his lead.  
  
Like a switch was flicked, the moment the door shut Light was adamantly awake, rearing for more. He caught the idea that throwing L onto the bed and littering his throat with hickies was a good one. Fighting against the marks earned his hands pinned above his head while Light did as he pleased, hissed threats and torrent thrashing subdued to rolling hips and spilling moans. Moving too quickly for the detective’s comfort, the younger man lashed a hand to the belt holding his robe together, using it to aptly bind L’s wrists tying the remainder to the headboard. Opting to humor the diligent lips continuing to ravage his body, leaving harsh evidence of what transpired, he turned his mind off and his body on, letting the over stimulation swell between his legs. In doing this it took the dangerous tongue pleasuring him a mere few minutes to consummate his orgasm.  
  
Panting heavily he gasped between breathless kisses, “Untie me.”  
  
"No."  
  
“Why?"  
  
“I'm not done with you, L.” ,he rasped, raking his nails up a barren chest, “It's about time I got my revenge, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Blood drained from his features, “..revenge?"  
  
He hummed in confirmation, “For leaving me tied up for _four hours_."  
  
“You're going to leave me tied up, with a robe sash, to an unsecured headboard, for four hours?"  
  
"What impressive deductive skills, and without being in your sitti-”  
  
Easily maneuvering his wrists from the poorly woven restraints, L pounced, unforgivably catapulting his attempted captor to the floor. They wrestled hideously even garnering a phone call from the always watching eye.  
  
"Does it ever bother you that he's _always_ watching you?" Light breathed behind a foot applying too much pressure than appropriate on his chest.  
  
“Sometimes." he muttered, using the distraction to sweep his opponent onto his stomach, digging a knee in to pin his prize down, securing his hands behind his back. Standing upright while still planting a foot on Light's back, he leans over to snatch the belt from his own robe. He swiftly wrangles the fabric around uncooperative ankles. Leering into his here he chides, "That's how you do it. Enjoy another four hours.”  
  
Twenty minutes of work was accomplished before Light freed himself. He had the most triumphant, adorable grin on his face when he tossed a himself on the small tabletop with enough enthusiasm to break it. The flipping of the furniture occurred in slow motion; the shit eating expression faded to regret as L deemed the laptop more valuable, reflexively grabbing it from the table, then retreating as the table clamored to the ground. Once the laptop was housed on the dresser, he hoisted the wreckage away. It was in vain, he discovered it broke into two pieces when the base sprung back slamming into Light's forehead as he sat up.  
  
Shouting in pain, he held his wound as L discarded the tabletop. Kneeling beside him he fought to see the damage, “Let me see.”  
  
"You've done enough..." Light grunted, inching away.  
  
“Please?” , that word came out too softly but it was the proper tone to get access to the swelling welt behind lush bangs. Clicking in disapproval he gently parted the hair, touching the man's skin with the utmost care, “At least it's not bleeding a lot."  
  
“Oh good."  
  
“Come on, there's first aid in the bathroom."  
  
Leaning on one another, they managed to prop Light on the toilet while L pawed through the kit under the sink. Bowing before him, he went right to work to clean up his mistake. It would've been humorous how fussy Light was when the antiseptic hit the shallow gash if L wasn’t already squeamish about these sorts of things.  
  
"That..damn it..that stings! Hold on!”  
  
"There is no holding on, it's going to hurt now and when you postpone it.”  
  
Light was backing into the porcelain, L was loosing his patience.  
  
“No matter what you do, it's going to yield the same result. Stop it."  
  
A hand was lifted to block the pursuing hand to the wounded forehead, but a sneak attack of firmly gripping Light's jaw froze him long enough to stifle hissed proclamations. Dropping the prepackaged wipe in the trash he turned back to an incredibly adorable display of pouting. It was clear this wasn't apart of the mask the man wore so often, this was him, being unintentionally human. His body moved on instinct alone, hesitantly placing a kiss to firmly pressed lips, which quickly blossomed for more physicality. He ran his tongue along the inside of the other's mouth, catching a bottom lip between his teeth, massaging it before pulling away.  
  
“Who knew all it would take to get you to sit still for basic medical attention was that?" ,he coyly stroked the bandage into place.

“It’s not my fault you’re a shit doctor.”

“Apologies. You certainly seem to like my bedside manner, however.”  
  
“Actually it’s horrible. Your license should be revoked.”  
  
“What a rude patient you are.”  
  
“I’m reporting you to the board.”  
  
“You’re ridiculous.”  
  
He beamed, as if taking compliment, “I’ll stop being ridiculous if you make up for your awful nursing by sucking my dick.”  
  
It didn’t sound like a bad way to apologize.  
  
Lowering to crouch between the other’s knees he took his time parting them, running wanting hands up slender thighs to encircle a taught ass. He eagerly pulled his already hardening cock closer. Staring up at him L smirked as his tongue lolled out of his mouth, dragging a line down Light’s inner thigh, “Please, rest while I atone for my poor manner.”  
  
Despite their sexual history only being a few weeks long by this point, that was the longest blowjob L ever gave in his life. He wondered if Light intentionally was holding off, glances up to his flushed expression certainly implied that he was forcing his desired duration for the show. When the end was finally swallowed back, L was excited again. He leapt into Light’s lap, rolling his hips atop a softening member, determined to maintain his erection. His goal was obtained, the bastard almost got his way with fucking him by lurching their entwined forms onto the tile. The tip of an unforgiving vengeance prodded his entrance and he immediately swung Light beneath him keeping protective hands around his head. Satisfied that Light's possible injury isn't worsening, he crashed their mouths together in a ravenous force that left them breathless. Their union was destroyed so he could decorate enticing collarbones.  
  
They lost themselves in the bathroom again. Only taking a break when Light became nauseous and dizzy. L worried he may have a concussion, but the relentless arousal instigated by his lover subdued that concern. At the conclusion of round three in the bathroom, which ended in them both in the shower somehow, his entirety was throbbing in utter exhaustion. Particularly protruding places of his skeletal frame ached from too much attention on ceramic surfaces. He was also plainly tired. The impending experiment stressed him, he didn’t want more evidence against Light. All he wanted was to be laying against his chest, lulling to sleep to wake up and engage in comfortable conversation, drink coffee and get lost in work by his side.  
 _  
‘Those thoughts are fantasy. Use them to use him…stop dreaming about something that isn’t meant to happen.’_ ,he chided himself, scraping the little willpower available to coax the pair into a proper shower.  
  
Cleaned and spent, they eventually surrendered to the bed once more. L was certain this was his time to relax until Light fell asleep then he’d slip out to prepare for the execution. As if Light knew, he did not allow that to happen in the manner predicted. His mouth had other plans, those plans being L’s dick. The one being sucked off lost count of how many times he came, but was about to inquire if they could stop for the night when Light complained of jaw pain.  
  
“You might have a concussion.” L captured a sharp chin in his hand, leading it to his mouth, weirdly enjoying the taste of himself, “Please rest. I’ll get Watari to make appointments to verify my suspicions. I do value your mind, I’d like it at peak condition.”  
  
Light frowned, “You can’t just stay here? Summon Watari like you usually do.”  
  
“I would like to bathe in my preferred method. Also there is a meeting I have to attend with some benefactors.”  
  
“I understand.” ,he stole a kiss, lapping at L’s bottom lip, “How long can I delay you for?”  
  
“No time, I mean it, you’ve already derailed my itinerary by half an hour.”  
  
The devilish grin that threatened to tear open Light’s face was warning enough that escaping the room would be nearly impossible. Somehow he deduced that hair pulling would be an effective way to trap L a little longer, and he wasn’t wrong. Thrilled chills shot down his spine every time a handful of his hair was yanked to expose his neck to that demon’s lips. A few moments he honestly thought about forgoing the schedule but his ambition kicked in to drive Light away momentarily. He considerately trapped him under his knees, savoring the sweet kisses transpiring to murmur, “Keep this up and I’ll end this. I won’t have you disrupting my work, Light.”  
  
A heated laugh replied, “Fair enough.”  
  
He left perhaps an hour ago, but now perched across from Watari, finally concluding the stoic miniature lecture of the importance of separating work from play in a freakishly cordial manner, it felt like years went by.  
  
“My sincerest apologies.” ,L grumbles behind a bite of cake, “But I assure you, it is crucial to upkeep the sexual requirements of this undercover work. If it were up to me I would not be the one performing this role. I wholeheartedly agree that I am best suited behind a screen, as usual.”  
  
“You have a multitude of talents, sir. However, intimate undercover work is proving to not be your strong suit.”, he presents the paperwork, notebook and laptop showing live feed to the inmate whose cell which is under strict surveillance via cameras and guards, “We can have another discussion of your emotional involvement after this. Here are the materials you requested. No wires, cameras or otherwise compromising materials are located within this room. My informants have texted reply and confirmed that the same conditions have been met by the benefactors. I will be here to document everything and will send the documents immediately to validate your plan, sir. Everything is secured, you may proceed.”  
  
“Thank you, Watari.”  
  
Anxiety encroaches at full force. Finally his main scrutiny will be answered but not without additional trial. L has spent countless hours reading and re-reading the notebook’s rules. More time than that has been devoted to the endless ways the powers could be manipulated. One of most concerning theories being the hypothesis of, can page shreds be used to the came capacity of the notebook itself? According to the inside cover it reads, ‘The human whose name is written in this notebook shall die.’  
  
L has combed over those words painstakingly so, the only flaw found is the keyword ‘in’, causing him wonder if the effect can only occur if the name or circumstances of death are written inside the notebook. However, a page corner had been torn off the notebook under Higuchi’s possession, which only furthered inquiry. The task force throughly investigated both notebooks, but not without L’s preemptive tampering. Watari brought them to him in secret, pointing out that the shinigami did indeed scribe Higuchi’s name, ending his life. What of concern was the second name starting to be written: ‘L Lawli’. His blood ran cold. Two letters saved him from death.  
  
“I would recommend we replicate the page.” Watari had offered, “It would look strange to not have his evidence, but it would be too high of a gamble to let Light Yagami see this.”  
  
“Yes.” L agreed, “Duplicate it, thank you.”  
  
He was riddled with the hounding query, _‘Why did the shinigami wish to kill me? Of all the people there it chose my name. My initial response is that the monster knew of my involvement, my heading the case, so if there was something it was protecting, or someone it was guarding, eliminating me would secure Kira’s safety. I thought this was confirming Misa’s guilt because she was the only one at risk or benefitted from Higuchi's death. But she wasn’t even present, her safety wasn’t threatened. Was it protecting Light? Was it protecting some other agenda?’_  
  
There were too my answered variables he would likely never learn the solution too. At least today he would get some resolve by reducing his strategy to a level no less than Kira himself. He’s a cornered animal by this point, this case having already pushed him in ways no other has. Even though the concept of using the notebook causes his stomach to churn, he is additionally stimulated by the tantalizing nature of the devise. Part of him doesn’t entirely believe its power, a larger fraction wishes to not have to indulge in the curse, butaiding in the conspiracy against a global downfall continues the game.  
  
The scheme originally is as follows: he and the supplementary compatriots have agreed to test the notebook for the thirteen day rule. To the majority, L has staked the claim that the notebooks’ thirteen day expiration date is false, that is the outcome betted. However, the unknowing members have other plans to deter those wishing to abuse Kira's power in turn aiding in the inevitable end. He and the hidden benefactors who oppose Kira’s ultimate rule, plan to upkeep appearances of the rule remaining ‘true’. At the first death, a stopwatch began counting down the end of thirteen days to the inmate who tested the notebook- this was sent to all knowledgeable individuals. Time has ticked away to this exact moment.   
  
Together they watch with digital bated breath to see the outcome.  
  
Seconds tick down.  
  
Five...  
  
Four…  
  
Three…  
  
Two..  
  
One.  
  
The executioner inmate is alive. He isn't aware of any of the ongoings, just that he may be pardoned by writing down names and knowing faces. Unsurprised, L waits the allotted forty seconds to only add to evidence of a building theory. That proves incorrect. The man still breathes, everyone connected to the notebook is also alive.  
  
Nervously his gaze shifts to the notebook scrap, he cannot hesitate. The plan may be transparent with too much time passing. Thinking of the man, L scrawls his name along with the addition instruction of ‘immediately dies peacefully of a heart attack.’ He fears the spirit, so to say, of Kira to inhabit him, but has no other sensation other than paranoia enter his mind. As prescribed, the victim gasps, not sounding pained to what L can infer, before going limp. Coldness drops into him as he leans away from the tools of destruction. A chorus of pinging from world leaders, secret family members and other individuals of importance flood his inbox. Watari’s demeanor is unchanging as he promptly removes the notebook and piece from the table. Placing the small strip in an evidence bag he adds it to the metal lockbox the death note calls home.  
  
Thumbing his lips, endless scenarios of betrayal reel through his thoughts. ‘ _How many people have you killed like this, Kira? Is all the work I’ve done on Light worthless now or even more incriminating than before? How many pieces could he have on him presently? I haven’t seen him have any, neither has surveillance but…’_ The glaring knowledge of the notebook weighs down upon him, ‘ _It looks like regular notebook paper. Anyone could hide it in plain sight without much thought. The possibilities are endlessly complex. I’m going to have to comb through all of the footage of Light and Misa we have, we’re going to have to ramp security to a level unprecedented. And most irritating of all, if this doesn’t scare them out of their delusions, my options lessen significantly.'  
_  
“The members wish to schedule an immediate conference to discuss these findings.” Watari announces behind his own wall of screens, “If you so wish, I can go in your stead?”  
  
“That’s quite alright. I’d rather do it myself.” L prods another forkful of cake, “Could you please send the surveillance footage we have on Light Yagami up to detainment to Near?”  
  
This froze Watari’s hands above his keyboard, “Are you sure, sir?"  
  
“My time is divided in too many places, presently. I would like fresh eyes on the case. In all truthfulness, its busy work that I’m not available for. Near has an aptitude for this sort of thing anyways.”  
  
“Are you bringing him onto the case?”  
  
“No, just asking for assistance. He’s done much more trying tasks for me in the past. This is, quite easy work for him really."  
  
"And Mello?”  
  
“I may have use for him, but for now I feel Near is best suited. If possible, keep Near's involvement a secret from Mello, I don't need them squabbling over evidence.”  
  
"If I may, I think a beneficial way to further lessen their adversary quarreling, would be to let them work on this task together. Especially if you plan to bring Mello on later on."  
  
He mulls this through a few bites of dessert, “No. I hold firm to my choice, Watari. But thank you for your input.” **  
**  
“Of course, sir.” ,the elderly gentleman skillfully summons the correct methods of communication to initiate the required congregation.  
  
As the online discussion of the findings proceeds, Light Yagami politely thanks the car sent by the task force for returning him to the headquarters building from his mandatory checkup coordinated by L. The bastard didn't give him much time to get dressed. Almost immediately after he left a brisk knock at the door revealed a professionally dressed man informing him of his waiting doctor's appointment. He scrambled to clothe himself, accidentally pulling one of L’s crewnecks. One foot out the door, he caught his reflection see the hickies littering exposed skin. Panicking, he ran to steal a turtleneck zip up sweater hanging in the closet. He didn't want to change, he secretly enjoys the soft material of his enemy’s uniform against his skin. In the back of the car he snuck a few fingers under the top layer to test the fabric of the undershirt, _‘It's soft...I can understand why he likes it to much.’_  
  
With the battled leaving of his partner this morning, he was vacant of L, despising that he was craving the other’s warmth. He wanted nothing more to be curled into askew black hair and a sharp, contorted body than having his head evaluated for damage. The doctor informed him that other than the raised bruise on his forehead he was otherwise fine. Light could've told him that, but humored L's concern by going with the attendant.   
  
He begins his commute to the task force mulling the strangeness from earlier. L has had other duties to attend to in the past, it was strange that he was covert about today’s meeting. Maybe he was shaken up from their umpteenth sleepless night of sex, or he was beginning to feel some sense of obligation to Light? No, that can't be it. L has made his emotional distance abundantly clear from the start of his ruse. ‘ _What are you hiding?’_ ,he ponders, stopping in the first level kitchen to make coffee, _’I've been able to do a fairly good job at sneaking looks at his computer and due to the rest of the team not agreeing with him still thinking I'm Kira, all of the files are now available to me, even the hidden ones. It could be that he is handling another case, but I don't buy that. Most crime has halted with Mikami’s merciless ramping of crime within the last week, it’s almost baffling in how many criminals dying around the clock. It's going to scramble the team worse than before. The message I sent through Misa rang through loud and clear, smart of him to start killing in 'real time’ from other ‘locations’. Although, this is something I won’t mention to the group for another day or two. I cannot be on my own tail too closely.’  
_  
Coffee in hand, he glides down the stairs to the group, flashing a practiced smile to all of them, being especially kind to his father, _‘Whatever he's hiding, I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough. L is finally warming up to me. Unlocking his true name may not be too far off. That will be gauged in how much hidden information he might be willing to disclose to me. Surely he’s running a secret investigation on me out of the task force’s knowledge, which is fine, I'd be disappointed if he weren’t.I just need to ensure that all connections to Kira are apparently nonexistent. If all goes accordingly, L will be bending to me even more within a few months.’  
_  
Logging onto his computer his unease is reassured at the egregiously long columns of killings all around the world. Starting to catalogue them he congratulates not only his decoy but himself, sometimes this pursuit of a new world has the air of child's play.  
  
The day droned on exceptionally long without L present. His absence goes noticed after lunch when Matsuda asks, "Where is Ryuzaki?" ,his hopefully ignorant eyes settle on Light, "Hey, do you know?"  
  
“Why would I know where he is?"  
  
"Because you two are joined at the hip." Aizawa dully answers, “Plus aren't you his only friend or something like that?"  
  
Light evenly smiles, "While I may be Ryuga's only friend, I have many others of my own. I don't keep tabs on all of them, sorry."  
  
"Maybe he's sick?” Matsuda wonders.  
  
"I doubt he's sick." Aizawa grumbles.

"Why not? Super geniuses get sick too, Aizawa."  
  
"Sure, but where would he even pick up anything? The guy lives here! he never goes out!”  
  
“He could be out right now.” Matsuda singsongs, “He could be out…” he throws a knowing look at Light who visibly deflates, barely shaking his head ‘no’, but it's in vain, the fellow detective has made up his mind, “…doing stuff. With people…”  
  
“What?” Aizawa rolls his eyes.  
  
“People stuff…like what adults do?”  
  
“Matsuda.” Soichiro snaps, “That’s extremely inappropriate.”  
  
“What? He’s not here.”

“Yeah, but we’re under constant watch. He could be watching you imply…” Aizawa grunts in disgust, “..whatever it is you are implying, right now.”  
  
“Awww you guys are suck sticks in the mud!” Matsuda proclaims, “C’mon, Light, you know what I’m-”  
  
“Don’t drag me into this.”

“Ide!”  
  
“No.”  
  
He emits a little chorus of frustrated huffing then admits defeat, slumping into the work splayed out on the desk. The comfortable silence of a well-functioning machine falls back into place for a grand total of half an hour before he audibly purses his lips, “…anyone hear from Misa-Misa late-”  
  
“Shut up, Matsuda!” Aizawa growls.  
  
Mogi snorts under his breath at the squeak from the man under attack.  
  
Since the uptick of Kira programming, they have fallen in the habit of having the news and specialized broadcasts play in the background while working. For the most part, they went ignored aside from the nightly dedicated watching to specialized programs. But as the room settles down from Matsuda’s adamancy, the gentle advertisement catches Light’s attention. He takes a mental break from cataloging to see flashy graphics sweep across the screen, artificial sparkles illuminating the laughing features of Kiyomi Takada.  
  
“Special announcement this evening, now presenting a new featured show on NHN nightly, Tonight With Ms. Takada. Tune in this evening to find out our programmed times and first special guest!” the voice over encourages.  
  
Matsuda peeks over his shoulder, “She’s getting her own show? So soon?”  
  
Ide shrugs, “She’s pretty popular.”

“Ryuzaki did mention that she’s under suspicion.” Soichiro adds not looking up from his work, “It is a bit strange that someone so inexperienced is climbing the network ladder so quickly.”  
  
“I guess.” Light muses, remembering her arrogantly telling him of her promotion, “Has the people Ryuzaki sent into NHN’s ranks reported anything?”  
  
“Not…hold on.” Mogi clicks around, “A report was sent in a few hours ago from the undercover assistant working with her.”  
  
“What’s it say?” Matsuda inquires.  
  
“Nothing much…she’s very pro-Kira.” Mogi paraphrases, “…Misa Amane is up for the first featured guest of the new nightly show. Apparently Ms. Takada isn’t a fan of her…or L. She spent a good deal of discussion with her assistant disclosing a serious distain of him and the task force.”  
  
Light frowns, “What does she know about L?”  
  
“She works in newscasting, from the high ranking company she keeps, it wouldn’t be all too surprising to figure one of the producers or CEOs told her about L’s workings with Sakura TV or NHN. He’s got a pretty tight connection with all broadcasting stations worldwide, basically letting him do what he wants.” Mogi begins adding to Takada’s file, “And it’s not like the media hasn't latched on L, doing their own speculations, voicing their own opinions.”  
  
“I see…” Light turns back into his computer, diving into the files to pull up Kiyomi’s scanning to see no mention of his connection to her. Setting his chin on his hand he exits out to resume his previous task, _‘Should I mention my past relationship to her now? No…this still doesn’t seem like a good time to do so. L is only suspicions to her are that she’s too successful. Which it does seem weird, however, she is beautiful and smart, I could see her using both of those charms to her advantage. The real problem here is Misa…I don’t need her starting something with Takada. But I also still need her to talk to Mikami. What an aggravating girl…she forgets L’s name and just continues to be a problem. At least the constant watching over her keeps her in line. I’m honestly very impressed with her abilities to hide her connection with Mikami. She’s not entirely useful for now.’_ , his stare slides back to the commercial playing with her faux persona giggling into a perfume bottle, transparent curtains gliding around her modest lingerie clad body, _‘But your days are surely limited if Mikami is a fraction of what I envision him to be.’  
_  
Perfected lighting gives her skin a milky angelic glow. It’s almost like she’s beaming at him. He feels sick.  
  
“I love you.” her image promises.  
  
Miles away, Takada is also watching the end of the same commercial. She really should send Misa a thank you basket of sorts, the constant gastrointestinal upset the thought of having to work with her has done wonders for Kiyomi’s already perfected waistline. Reviewing the email summarizing the secret meeting she settles into her makeup chair in preparation for the newscast. Her makeup artist smells like coconuts and jasmine, a calming powering dusts on her cheeks to give them the perfected rosy appeal.  
  
Nothing of significance is mentioned in the briefing, as she expected, aside from confirmation from Misa’s management that she’d be honored to be the first guest on the show. No matter, she has her own schemes ready to go to obtain the information needed for Kira’s rise to power. Still swaddled in her robe she discards her phone to her purse hanging off the makeup chair, staring at the wardrobe hung on the back of the door.  
  
“Could we go with a more…how do I say this tastefully…endowing dress this evening?” Kiyomi requests.  
  
The makeup artist sizes up the dark beige garment, “I think it’s a very pretty choice, Ms. Takada. What isn’t to your standard?”  
  
“Oh, nothing. I’m just trying to boost my numbers.” she shyly averts her face, “I’m a bit nervous to be in a show up against Misa Amane, she is so sought after. I’d like to be just as favorable, you know, dumb girl things.”  
  
“Of course.” the artist perks, “But I personally love your refined image, don’t try to come off as too…loud? Misa has a cute style, but she’s like a child sometimes, which to each their own I guess. Maybe you could amplify your assets to get the attention you’re looking for?”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
She phantoms lifting her own breasts, “You know…I have some help if you want. The other lead female anchor uses them, we have some on standby since one popped off camera once.”  
  
“If it’s not too much trouble.”  
  
“Be right back.”  
  
Within a timely manner the assistant returns with the discussed ‘help’. She begins mixing Kiyomi’s lipstick color as the newswoman slips away to the changing room. As she shuts the door she catches sight of her prey. At a breakneck pace, she stuffs her bra and lifts her chest to a tantalizing fullness. Checking in the mirror she praises the plushness peeking out of her robe in an 'accidental' fashion. Swinging the door open she saunters down the hallway, acting as if she just remembered something. Quickening her pace she reaches out to delicately touch his bicep. He turns to her, decreasing their proximity.  
  
“Ms. Takada.” BBC CEO cordially greets, his eyes darting to a teasing chest.  
  
“Please, call me Kiyomi.” her words are like marmalade, “I wanted to thank you for your aid in the meeting. The show means a lot to me, I appreciate your kindness…even though I’m sure it was for the network, not some personal reason.”  
  
“It’s no problem.” ,he feigns a cough, “I think…” , he was struggling to not look, “…the show will be a big ti-”, a rough false wheeze, “Hit…dry throat, sorry.”   
  
“Do you need something to drink?” ,she pushes closer, arching her back up as if to inspect him closer out of ‘concern’, “I have some water in my room. It’s right here.”  
  
“Uh…sure.” ,he remains in the hallway as Kiyomi reaches inside to grab a fresh bottle off the table.    
  
She watches in muted calculation as he respectfully gulps it down, “Speaking of drinks, I was going to ask if I could treat you after work sometime as a thank you.”  
  
“That’s quite-”  
  
“I insist.” Kiyomi takes the offered bottle back making certain their fingertips brush, “I’m also very curious to hear about stories I’ve heard about your work in Europe.”  
  
His eyes flicker with questioning. He’s opted to take the bait, “Maybe dinner is more suited to your tastes, Ms. Takada.”  
  
“Kiyomi.”  
  
“...Kiyomi.”   
  
“But yes, dinner sounds wonderful. How about tonight if you’re free?”  
  
“I think I can make that work.”  
  
“Wonderful.”  
  
“See you this evening?”  
  
“My treat.” ,she winks, slinking back into her room, bombarded by the judgmental surveying of her artist.  
  
“I hope those help with your _ratings_ , Kiyomi.”  
  
“As do I.” ,she effortlessly replies without missing a beat.  
  
The challenge of building a new world is invigorating. After all, she is a goddess readying for war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK WHAT juice I was on with the first chapter eleven, but it's gone now. There are some whispers of it in this chapter but my god I apologize to anyone who read it. 
> 
> Hi I'm Mandela and this is my fixed effect, if you'r reading this for the first time, you're on the right side of history. 
> 
> I'm ready for the boys to rip out each other's throats, but they haven't even been having sex for a month, I want it to get very n i c e before they combust and maybe cry?
> 
> IDK but dudes buckle in for our Killer Queen Taki to fuck some shit up soon. Hail Kira? IDK but thank you guys for being here omg this damn thing is 100 pages in my Pages Doc and I hate my life xD


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a big chonky soup of Wammy yum yum backstory stew + Wammy's kids really out here ready to be awful, awful genius fuck nuggets. Mello just kinda wants anarchy and somehow Matt isn't ready?? + Kiyomi not quite ready to fuck your dad but, she will, don't worry. Maybe. ;) + detective boyfriends being a little too cute + Light Yagami attempts to top. Sorta. He's ready to * t r y * okay?? + L being stinky but also really being 'that bitch' + Soichiro once again respecting the role of referee of 'Yeah. The world's greatest detective can punch the shit out of my son for exactly three minutes before I do something about it. Maybe I should've given him a timeout that one time but here we are, he's accused of murder.' 
> 
> Also Mello is 16, Near is 9 for plot reasons

The Wammy’s House, established after 1945, post World War II where the founder fought for the English side.  
  
One honorable discharge later, he spent a few years traveling. Through a series of unbecoming circumstances resulting from lacking funds, he was recruited by high paying individuals wishing him to continue his marksmanship for private affairs. This was resolution for financial needs but wore heavily on his morality. Growing tired of clandestine bloodshed, he entered a life of academics. By the end of his six year study, he was prematurely profiting from ideas come to fruition marking the lifestyle of an abruptly affluent inventor. With money in constant abundance from accumulating patents, he found a stalemated requirement for more.  
  
This man would volunteer for charities he started to compensate for the price tag guilt that seeped into his weary veins; a circulatory system already exhausting in his forties. While searching for humanity in the comfort of self-started philanthropy, he noticed the staggering amount of children displaced in the wake of not only warfare but of poor circumstance. Either their families died in duty, civil casualties or unfortunate lifestyles. A few gained not only his particular sympathy, but also immense amazement in their bright aptitude.  
  
Being by their side, providing basic human needs and at times, comfort, he impulsively offered his home to a few of them out of attachment. The reality of the situations didn’t quite hit until he was tucking them into the spare beds of his Alresford home. Was this what he wanted? Were these little boys and girls his scoured answer?  
  
Late that night he stared out the window, wracking his mind for some answer.  
  
He called her. She answered.  
  
“I brought seven children home.”  
  
“Quill, it’s late, darling…beg your pardon-what?”  
  
“The homeless shelter…I brought some of the children home. I don’t know what to do.”  
  
He could hear her clothing ruffle for she undoubtedly was beginning to dress herself. She was accustomed to this behavior from him since he returned from war. Either he would call in these spells or the police would. If she didn’t interfere to some degree when it was his hands dialing her landline, in due time it would be the latter.  
  
“Well, obviously you aren’t going to take them back to the shelter.” she spoke in a terse way which indicated that she was holding pins in her teeth to create presentable hair, “What prompted this behavior?”  
  
A long pause.

He could hear her front door shut; then it locked.

“Their intelligence. They’re impossibly quick witted. All of them.”  
  
“All of the children with you now?”  
  
“No…all of the children at the shelter, the streets. I wanted too see how a proper home would treat them. I-I am unsure of this intuition but it told me to get them out of a daft space, that I was supposed to do this.”  
  
“It’s a very noble cause. You certainly have the availability to act on this…gut impulse.”  
  
She was right. She was always right.  
  
Within an hour she stood at his doorstep. He made her tea. They shared leftovers from the kitchen. The chef eventually woke up to make them and the guest children breakfast, not at all disturbing their in depth conference of a proper method to achieve the best outcome of the actions taken.  
  
Later that afternoon, they called her brother, Roger, he their mutual connection. The rest is history.  
  
Within a few months an old estate was bought out and re-named Wammy’s House where all of those astute children could live to their fullest potential. After all, everyone is born smart, it is regrettably up to the fittest of their habitat to determine the level of merit in youth. That’s how the orphanage remained until she passed leaving him empty once more; but not as saddened as the horrors of a world at odds had.  
  
Traveling in America he wound up in an odd place. A friend, and by friend, this was amore acquaintance than companion. However, irregardless of his shadow dealings, knew of wondrous ways to multiple assets and told him of a stock market savant. Curious and always happy to boost funding for his homes, he indulged. Through many roundabout tricks he caught onto the scent of something very wrong, eventually busting the chicanery. Escorted to the back of a maze of a wealthy home, he was poised and undercover. He was not met by some holy, all knowing Wall Street animal, but a small boy crouched and addicted to a computer screen.   
  
Worse than the suspected ploys were confirmed. The additional hidden policemen shouted their identities, the one charged with guarding the man urged him into the room the boy was inside locking them both inside. It was a bullet proof box in the basement lacking windows or proper ventilation. Large, inquisitive eyes popped up from behind a hill of technology- a proper modern creature.  
  
Despite the shambling upheaval around him, the secret took to his feet, padding over him and smiled evenly.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
“I’m Quillish Wammy, pleased to meet you.”  
  
He offered his hand. Large grey eyes were confused, not scared.   
  
“They didn’t give me information on you.”  
  
“They?”  
  
He shrugged, “Him, his five friends. They tell me the information. I do the work.”  
  
“Who made you work?”   
  
The elder man sat down with the boy.  
  
“Them.”  
  
“How did you get here?”  
  
His head tilted to the side, “…I’ve always been here?”  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
Quizzically his head lolled to the opposite side, a finger poked his lips, “…I didn't know I could have one.”  
  
Everyone connected to the abuse refused to speak. To this day Watari doesn’t know who or what brought that child into unforgivable circumstances. Perhaps it is best left unknown. All they could learn was the mob had some form of document resembling a birth certificate, with the child’s first name scratched out. All that could be read was: L. Lawliet. Watari did all in his power to track down the last name. The situation reeked of child abduction; he wouldn’t feel right rehoming him at The Wammy’s House although he wished to. The survivor was staggeringly intelligent, he personally wanted to oversee how impossibly successful he could become. Tracing the surname, all he obtained was a dead end in two rather puzzled families. One from Russia, the other Tunisia, not recognizing the boy’s photograph or story.  
  
The inhabitance of the nameless child changed the orphanage forever. He grew into something unforetold, shattering any expectations Watari could have had for him. If he had not watched with his own eyes of the skyrocketing propulsion of immeasurable deductive ability he would have not believed it. L changed the world around him all out of a desire to pursue truth at whatever cost. This legacy climbed suddenly and the fear of losing a righteous mind worried Watari. It caused him to sway the purpose of the homes to breed a successor to the discovery protégée.  
  
Most occupants of The Wammy’s House found their home much easier than the idol they sought to become. Almost all being too ‘difficult’ for other orphanages, often shipped off to Wammy’s as a type of punishment. All of them shed worried, guarded demeanors to learn that they were not being penalized but, saved to an environment teaming with amazement. How often was one whisked away into a strange secret world of codenames and intellect battles to one day be a super hero’s next runner up? All of the kids developed this credo, worshiping L as an icon to one day usurp.  
  
Well, _most_ share this fantasy.  
  
Most not being Near. He too had this glamor when arriving. It was quashed with the corruption of B, L’s previous successor and the exhaustion of uncaringly fighting with the second best, Mello. He found himself resistant to the title, but knew it was inevitable when the first dregs of a case were shouldered off on him by a phantom initial. This was merely a game to him for awhile. Cases grew in difficultly, he was being labeled as 'next' riddling the blotted puzzles with trepidation of failure or worse, corrosion. The unimaginable weight to assume a form that is intangible, unique and untouchable is daunting to say in the least.  
  
That’s why Near never tried to be L; at least not in the way everyone else tried to be. He focused on self-preservation by upkeeping constant mental stimulation. It appeared that the best way to win is to learn the methods of L, how his mind works in reaching conclusions and making decisions. To uphold his status of impending successor, he worked to stay number one. He blankly damned the consequence of the second behind, who battled anger issues often presented in tyrannical outbursts of jealousy and an inferiority complex. Near thought it was likely linked to abandonment and the lacking upheaval of emotional affirmation of the home. Even though the numbers showed otherwise, he was always uncertain of his adequacy. That insecurity was always curbed with the scrap cases. They were nothing more than busywork albeit, it was a level of trust nonetheless.  
  
It is also a gateway of the embodiment of aggravation literally threatening to breakdown the door presently.  
  
The anxiety of running from Mello’s vehemence so early in the morning left him missing an appetite. What he lacked in physical prowess Near equated mentally, which was all too evident when he felt the brushing of raging fingertips against the thinness of his button up. Thankfully he managed to outmaneuver the older, practically breaking his wrist turning the lock to the room he presently resides. Now he rests curled in front of a television. It is hooked up to one of many security tapes of a suspect listed as ‘Light Yagami’. He pertinently observes whist keeping an ear on the quarreling outside Roger’s locked study.   
  
“Mello, you need to calm-”  
  
“No way in hell, Roger! This is the third case this month! This month! Third! Why doesn’t he trust me?! What have I done? Why is Near so special?!”  
  
“It isn’t your place to question-”  
  
“Why?! This is bullshit and you know it! This Kira crap is only-”  
  
“Mello. Language. The younger children are-”  
  
“Smart enough to not say fuck in front of you, Roger, you asshole! You don’t agree either! I see it on your face! Don’t you fucking dare stand there and defend that little-”  
  
“Mello. Please, lower your voice. Watch your tone. Having a tantrum isn’t going to increase your chances of getting on the case, or any case for that matter.”  
  
“Excuse me for having some goddamn empathy, Roger! Deepest apologies to you, and L, for not being robotic enough for this hellhole!”  
  
“Perhaps you need to take a walk. Clear your head and we can discuss this-”  
  
"There's no discussion to be had! I really thought that he was starting to value me! Why else would he-”  
  
“Watch your next words carefully.” Roger’s voice is low, parental.  
  
“What?!” a cruel cackle tears from him, “Or what?! Go on! Tell me!”  
  
“You’re being irrational. I understand your upset, but give this time. Let Near do this work.”  
  
“L’s work.” Mello seethes, “ _My_ work!”  
  
Indications of Roger taking Mello’s biceps into his hands erupts into a clamoring of pathetic noises. A savior in awful gaming goggles meanders into the fray; he alone has the divine power to drag a howling sixteen year old from the protected enemy. Pausing the footage, Near turns to watch Roger haggardly sneak back into the office. He turns the lock as if Mello might pounce at any moment.  
  
“I apologize.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Near twirls a lock of platinum blond hair.  
  
Roger deflates into one of two chesterfield couches on either side of an antique coffee table with a comically long sigh.   
  
“I need to tend to my other duties before settling into work. Do you mind us sharing this space or do you need your own room?”  
  
“I’m okay here, thanks. If you annoy me I can put headphones in. But all conversation has already been transcribed so there’s no need. I’m only looking for…” he ponders his word choice settling on, “..suspicious paper?”  
  
“I know it seems odd. For your safety, that is all you need to know about for the time being.”  
  
“That’s alright.” he turns back to the footage, clicking it back to life, the fast forwarding level at the highest speed possible.  
  
It isn’t even that much to cover. He can review it quicker but wants more time alone in the office. Near has always preferred it to the rest of the rooms in Wammy’s, aside from the library. Roger’s office was the ideal spot with its old oak floors, rich furniture and looming bookshelves built into wealthy green walls. The worn yet still plush oriental rug is his favorite place to stretch out on or curl against a puzzle or action figure with. Since he's so quiet, he's able to sneak inside, doing as he pleases without Roger noticing. This behavior wasn't calculated but, led to one too many conversations not meant to be overheard. He would listen, still fidgeting with his toys wondering if it would be noticed so he could leave. Hours long discussions would pass, as would Roger on his way out of the room, shutting the door not so much as noticing the boy on the rug.  
  
Not that Near particularly approved of Mello’s outlandish methods, but he did envy them. Sometimes he wishes he could yell and scream like that. Early years before his inhabitance here taught him emotions aren't valid. Everything else in life only aided in confirming those lessons. He’s valued like this, cold and unnoticeable.  
  
That still validates him as such, cold and unnoticeable. A human stripped to a codename, nothing more than a computer screen’s worker. There are worse lives to be pursuing he supposes, the role of unwanted successor.  
  
While the stoic number one watches the fifth tape of the Yagami household, the frenzied second runner up savagely beats up a hanging towel in the boy’s showers. His keeper, the third ranking in intelligence of Wammy’s, sits on the tiled ledge in the shower playing his portable gaming device as one may an instrument. It’s little beeps grate on Mello’s nerves in the same way it curbs them. Arms throbbing he rests against the arched entry to the stall. Bitter eyes lock on the blank expression poured into an eight-bit landscape.  
  
“Matt. I really hate this towel thing.”  
  
“Yeah, well, tough shit my dude. I really hate having to do chores with you to replace drywall and couches you’ve demolished. Not to mention that one with you toppled three bookcases like fucking dominoes. Towels and clamps are cheaper.”

“They didn’t even make us repay the full worth of those, you know.”  
  
“Sure. Still annoying though.”  
  
The chirruping of a character dying echoes. Someone runs a sink, then gargles. They spit messily.  
  
“…thanks.”  
  
“For…?”

“What you did back there.”  
  
“Eh, it’s whatever. I don’t think paying for Roger’s medical bills from a broken nose is worth your pissing contests with Near.”  
  
“It’s not even a-” he makes a strangling motion with his hands, “-ahh! He’s fucking… _nine_!”  
  
“And you’re sixteen.” Matt wags a finger at him, mocking Roger’s stiff English tone, “A man your age should know better! I’d know, I taught you so! Now leave little Near alone, he’s got big boy work to do, being L’s mini-me.” he pauses his game to meet his friend’s gaze, “That’s all it is, Mello. Busy work.” the game cheeps back alive, “Near hasn’t even met the guy. You at least got that much.”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“You write that book yet?”

“Mostly…sorta.”  
  
“Publish it for Wammy's Novella November.”  
  
“No. It’s…there for other purposes than rubbing Near’s nose in it. Or outing B to the whole house like that.”  
  
Matt snickers, "He'd murder you if you did that."  
  
"He's dead."  
  
"Right. Bummer...what is it for then?”  
  
“Me? I don’t know…it's kinda like a diary.”  
  
“That’s sweet.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Make me.”  
  
Mello rolls his eyes, “I’m not dumb. I’m not going to reward you for your bastard behavior.”  
  
“Wow.” Matt whistles, “Reward.” he drawls out the word, “I’m not a girl. A reward would be getting my dick sucked.”  
  
“Maybe if it grows a few inches.”  
  
“Bro!” he nearly drops his game, “Get your fucking ruler, you pissant!”  
  
“I’m not measuring your dick again.”  
  
“You won’t suck it either! Why are we friends again?”  
  
He grins that crooked way that softens Matt’s flippant demeanor. His head shakes causing butterscotch locks to dirty his features, reminding both of them of a needed haircut. Exhaling he sinks to sit, stretching out his legs, “…what if we left?”  
  
“Good idea, a vacation sounds rad.”  
  
“I’m serious.”  
  
“Me too. I’m thinking…Belize. Nude beaches.”  
  
“Seriously, Matt.” He moves closer to rip the peeping device from distracted hands, it closes like a clamshell, “I’m really thinking about leaving. Would you come with me?”  
  
A frown, “Where would we go?”  
  
“Japan.”  
  
Shaking his head he stands up, backing away, “You’re crazy. I mean that this time. Fucking no, dude. Nuh-uh.”  
  
“It’s gone on too long! I have this…gut feeling that there’s something very wrong with L's investigation...with the world?"  
  
"The world is always going to be wrong. Leaving won't fix it."

"I know! But I’m tired of sitting by here watching Near get case after case when he’s trusted me enough to meet me! Why would he do that then never give me any of his work?!”  
  
“I don’t know. Really, I don’t care about L, how he handled A and B leaving...kinda hate the guy. You gotta stop competing with Near, it’s not good. Whatever reason L has you have to respect it. What do you think is going to happen when we get there? You’re going to locate him, waltz into the task force headquarters, swoon into his arms and he’ll give you all the validation you need? He’ll coddle you and tell you how much better you are than Near? He’ll tell you how special you are?"  
  
"Shut up! You know-”  
  
“No, _you_ shut up! I _know_ you, Mello. I don’t know much about the Kira circus shit show, because I don't give two shits. But I do know that if Kira connects you to L that it could result in something much worse than your wounded pride.”  
  
“That’s just the thing, Matt! L won’t know that I’m there!” he grips his shoulders, “I’m going to solve the case for him. Fuck you for thinking I’d want to risk my life, your life, maybe even L’s life over something so petty as needing his…” steeling himself he relaxes his hold on Matt, sliding his hands down the length of his arms. He steps back, “…I’m tired of sitting by waiting to assume L’s title; a title I know he doesn’t want to give up, even if he dies. I want to free him. I want to prove myself not just to Wammy’s or Near or L. I need to do this for me.”  
  
A pregnant pause.  
  
“I hate you.”  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“It’s true. I hate you and I hate your schemes that you always drag me into.”  
  
“…if you hate me so much, why'd you want me to suck your dick earlier?” he snickers, “Kinda gay, Matt.”  
  
“So is your dumb plan to save the world.”  
  
“I’m not-”  
  
“Bro, you’re trying to James Bond your way to the number one spot and you’re asking me to be your Bond girl in a shower. That’s gay shit.”  
  
“We are not going to get into a stupid argument of gaiety.” hands curl into fists, “You in or not? I’m going with or without you,.”  
  
That hurt.  
  
“B-but, I would rather you be with me.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because you’re smart.”  
  
“You just want me to hack bank accounts for money.”  
  
“That too.”  
  
Rifling reddish brown hair from his forehead he resigns, “Fine. But I mean it, you’re going to have to suck my dick for this one.”  
  
“Done.”  
  
“For real?”  
  
“Sure.” Mello starts backing out of the stall, “Don’t get too excited, we have a lot of work to do before we leave.”  
  
“Like what?” he follows.  
  
“Like stealing Roger’s laptop. We’re going to hack it.”  
  
Matt visibly pales, “…that’s an _actual_ war crime.”  
  
He shrugs, “I’m sure it’ll be excused when we deliver Kira’s head to the world.”  
  
“I don’t know if head is worth this…” Matt grumbles, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Already he's craving naproxen for a headache that will probably last through the end of his life, or worse, the end of this scheme. “I need a cigarette.”

While the duo sneaks off to swipe cigarettes from one of their comrades who smuggles contraband into the orphanage, Roger leaves the office as Near makes a mental note of his viewing. He starts to pop the pieces of a build-it-yourself mecca robot on the floor. Organizing the interactive puzzle by limbs, decorations and torso sections he skips through to every night Light Yagami spends in his room. He threads a lock of hair between his fingers musing at how odd that someone with such a ridged after school schedule would only eat a snack one of those nights but none of the others. Perhaps it is coincidence, but in his experience with high functioning intellects, little routines do not go undisturbed. At least, not with most anyhow. Although, exceptions can be made.  
  
No such treatment will be found for the suspect in this case.  
  
The grainy image of the has been high school student shuts his door with a mug of tea and chips in hand. Once fast footage plays at an antagonizing slow rate.  
  
Near snaps the limbs into the robot’s torso.  
  
He makes a beeline to his desk. The lamp is clicked on and he gets to work.  
  
A robot has a head.  
  
Work resumes for hours. Nothing of severe suspicion arises aside from the fact that the following nights Light Yagami does not bring up a snack. He doesn’t even take a beverage with him. It is odd. Perhaps it was a once-off craving? His sister commented on his weight; is this an indulged eating problem? Maybe dinner wasn’t enough?  
  
He will mention it if he can prove what it may mean...but what treachery or paper could be hidden in a bag of chips?  
  
Time may tell. Near is annoyed as he connects the computer to the television screen, working to zoom in the footage and perches inches from the screen, searching for the smallest crack to dig into to rupture a surely placed facade.

—-

Since living off not only the wages given by her new position but, the monthly allowance deposited each month by her parents, Kiyomi has affluently adapted to a fast paced, high priced lifestyle. Unsurprisingly BBC took the bait. She sealed her plan by slipping a belt around her waist that only enhanced her silhouette. Yes, as the youngest spokeswoman on air, she has a modest image to maintain. However, that does not guarantee innocence. These men are readily frothing for any piece of flesh that isn’t their motherly wives at home, not much work has to be done. But she likes trying nonetheless. It makes the playing board fairer from her perspective.  
  
The first round of wine behind them, a second is professionally presented as the couple mutually conclude their salad course. It’s a new modern restaurant, the kind that thinks vaguely appropriating cuisine is edgy instead of inventive. Kiyomi could care less about the ethics of it all, she only wants to watch this man’s pocketbook bleed on cheap, luxuriously presented tablecloths.  
  
“That was more filling than anticipated.” BBC, or as he insisted, Eraldo, handsomely sighs, “I’m a little worried for the main course.”  
  
“Usually it takes around twenty minutes or so.” Kiyomi smiles, “There’s a schedule to all this.”  
  
“Of course, such is business…” he breaks to sip his wine, “Speaking of which, I’m very surprised by your…invitation this evening, Kiyomi.”  
  
“Oh? Why is that?”  
  
“Pardon my bluntness, but you didn’t seem particularly fond of me until today. What’s changed? I doubt it was just my defending your show.”  
_  
‘Right to business…I can respect that.’_ she notes while fixing the napkin on her lap.  
  
“Well, it’s a multitude of reasons. Yes, I will admit, I was unsure of your sudden transfer and interest in us. It seemed…strange. However, with how quickly the world is having to change to Kira’s judgements, it makes sense that other new stations would reach out to work with NHN. After all, we are in the country Kira likely resides in. I wanted to be sure you were here for the right reasons.”  
  
“Being?”  
  
“To not be like these corporate heads only fixated on money. They don’t care about news, or truth or the public’s wellbeing.”  
  
“And you do?”  
  
“Of course.” she feigns offense, “Media is an immensely powerful tool, Eraldo.”  
  
He agrees behind another swig.  
  
“Anyways…the way you ensured that my segment remain, and how you’ve been so…” the base of the glass is traced by an index finger, “…diplomatic. It impressed me. I wanted to take time to apologize of sorts.” she makes eye contact through her lashes, “You seem to be a very interesting man. I’d like to know you better.”  
  
“With the way you’ve been posing yourself, it appears to me that you’re into more than acquaintanceship.”  
  
“You _are_ rather bold. Maybe I’m simply being friendlier? I am aware of how stiff I can come off as.”  
  
“Yes, which makes your behavior that much more calculated, Kiyomi.” he pushes back gelled hair, reclining in his seat, “Look, you’re gorgeous. You know that. It makes you dangerous, I respect that. And if you have this…unfortunate impression that you need to use that against men to-”  
  
“Oh, let me make myself clear. I don’t wish to work against you. I want to work with you.”  
  
His building speech of morality simmers into an impressed upturned lip, “Is that so?”  
  
“Do you doubt me?”  
  
“I may need some persuasion.”  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“Don’t I?”  
  
“You’re already here.” she beams perfectly, “I’ve convinced you enough. Wouldn’t you say so?”  
  
“To a degree.”  
  
The calculations in the air are tangible.  
_  
‘I was right. He’s holding onto something very important. I played this irresponsibly. That's alright I can turn it around. Certainly, if he works as shallowly as I believe he does, he’ll disclose all information to me if I can prove myself his pawn. All for show, though. Like I’d walk in accordance to any other agenda outside of Kira’s…or my own for that matter.’_ Kiyomi languidly wets her lips, leaning to the table, pushing her breasts up on display. His eyes flicker in a whipping battle to refrain the instincts begging him to peer down.  
  
“What part of England are you from?”  
  
“The UK is more than England.”  
  
“You sound British…Whales?”  
  
A laugh, “No, no, you’re right, of course. I grew up in Manchester, studied media in America. Returned once my father landed me a promising starting position at BBC. The rest is history as they say.”  
_  
‘Rich, connected, Daddy’s boy. Not entirely unexpected. I’d bet he has a mommy kink.’_ Kiyomi internally chides as she perches her jawline on a few delicately placed fingers, _‘He likes talking about himself. Unlucky him.’_  
  
“How was studying in America?”  
  
“Ah, it was pretty great, I won’t try to be modest there. The party scene was out of control, made for great stories though, for friends back home. As far as my parents knew, it was a model student.”  
  
“Where you a troublemaker?”  
  
“In college? Not at all! I’m an observant type, one could say. When I do get involved it's much more sleight of hand business.”

“What do you mean?”  
  
“Oh, you know…if the group is being reckless, I’m wholeheartedly along for the ride. But I’ll be jumping ship before it hits the iceberg, if you catch my drift.”  
  
“I see. And I’m sure this type of mindset has got you where you are now, parental connections aside?”  
  
“I like to think so. What about you Kiyomi? You're in college now, right?”  
  
“Yes, but I’ve switched primarily to online classes. With the news station I simply cannot split my time between my career and eduction in person.”  
  
“Of course, you’re quite lucky that that’s an option, it certainly wasn’t in my day.” he embarrassedly shifts.

 _'Don't worry, I'll kink shame your choice of paisley with stripes, not your age.'_ Kiyomi purrs, “It’s fairly new all things considered. I wouldn’t say its without its downsides.”

“Like?”  
  
“Participation is much harder.” she sniffs behind her glass, “It’s less hassle to be an active classmate in person. Online you have to comment a certain amount of times, post your own points, it feels excessive. It's pretty easy to construct seemingly in-depth replies and conversation starters to sate the course requirements. So I guess it isn't all that bad.”  
  
“Seems like you have it all figured out.”  
  
“For the most part. I do like to be flexible though.”  
  
“Flexible?” he grins at that word.  
  
_‘Pervert.’_  
  
“Surely you’re the same? As an observer of sorts, don’t you keep on your toes, waiting and predicting what those on your...metaphoric ship may do? And depending on how they respond to their environment, does that reflect on your choices? I would hope so for your sake. Flexibility is necessary in life.”  
  
Entrees are dutifully placed before them, the phantoms of waitstaff drift away into the twinkling atmosphere. As far as either one at the table is concerned, they are all that matters.  
  
“You are a very bright woman, Kiyomi.”  
  
She slices the fish, deliberately dragging it through the sauce beside it, “That’s quite the complement coming from a man of your stature, Eraldo.”  
  
“I like your syntax.”  
  
“Was that your word of the day?”  
  
“I minored in prose.”  
  
“Out of requirement?”  
  
“Hobby. Last ditch effort to maybe not become a carbon copy of my father.”  
  
_‘Poor, wealthy baby. Can’t be a drunken poet. I can tell that life would bore you, Mr. Coil. It would bore me too.’_ she quietly comments.  
  
“Do you write for pleasure?”

He chews thoughtfully, “At times. Do you have hobbies?”  
  
“No time, but I did like sports.”  
  
“What did you do? You seem like a tennis girl.”  
  
“Wrong. Equestrian. It was very hard to pursue. My parents were so kind to ship me out to France for a summer to really enjoy it. I’d ride for the rest of my life if I could.”  
  
“I see we both have romantic passions the corporate world took from us.”  
  
She giggles, “Nothing took anything from me. I took what I wanted from the world. Someday I’ll retire to those romantic, childish indulgences. I’m young now, I don’t want a peaceful existence on some organically manicured European countryside.”  
  
“What do you want, Kiyomi?”  
  
“The world.” she swallows the last of her side vegetables, “Opportunity.”  
  
“Very noble of you.”  
  
“I think it’s human of me.” their meet eyes again, “What do you want?”  
  
“Freedom.”  
  
“Something you picked up at America?”  
_  
‘Damn, that sounded too juvenile. Maybe nationalist? We'll see.’_  
  
“No, something I think is also human. It’s an..idea that I have seen a lot of pain over in my time traveling for my job. What’s pathetic is that I’ve seen it through the looking glass of my work all my life, but it took being there in person for the gravity of it to hit.”  
  
“You’ve seen a lot. It’s very honorable that you learnt from the downtrodden realities. Did it humble you?”  
  
“It did.”  
  
“Is freedom why NHN has decided to openly support Kira?”  
  
His expression glints with tempered knowing, “We haven’t officially announced our support.”  
  
“I know that. I was only asking. Judging by the meeting, that seems to be the direction we are committing to. I’m curious as to where you stand on the matter.”  
  
Glowing warmth of the restaurant dims to a cooler hue as the man’s plate is cleaned in a swift bite. Laying the fork down he contemplates the dish.  
  
“Personally or otherwise?”  
  
“Either. I’m simply curious. No wrong answer.”  
  
Continued hesitancy, _‘My support of Kira is no secret. Maybe he doesn’t support the new world? Which I suspect he doesn’t if he is connected to L like I believe him to be. If he is a spy, he’s a very honest one. Or has a complex as hell backstory concocted. I doubt L or anyone in that moronic team is onto my connection to Kira, Mikami is impeccable. We have created a flawless plan. Him and I are invisibly dancing, apparition gods working to break down the bonds suppressing this disgusting established world. I expect you to also be disgusting, ‘Eraldo’. I need you to be less so, but you will be valuable standing on either side. In all honesty, finding L will be much easier for you to be as vile as possible.’_  
  
“I find you attractive.”  
  
Brows lift in question. She leers closer.  
  
“You’re a very agreeable man. I’ve greatly enjoyed our conversation. I know I have stern views. But I value opposing ideals.”  
  
Shoulders settle to a relaxed position, “I’m not afraid of your political opinion.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”  
  
A dashing grin draws forward as he props an elbow on the tabletop, “You are an incredible woman, very, very amazing.”  
  
“You don’t need to flatter me further. Answer the question.” the bill is set between them. She plucks it from reaching fingers. Sliding her credit card into the appropriate pocket Kiyomi maintains fierce eye contact, “Go on.”  
  
The holder tenderly thuds on the clothed wood. He’s beyond impressed. He thinks she’s impeccably hot.  
  
“I do not support Kira.” he coos, “I do not oppose Kira. I am neutral. Remember though, I am a watcher, both of self preservation and…” his hand slips atop hers, “…entertainment. Truth be told I avoid metaphoric wreckage because its tedious.”  
  
“Tedious endeavors become boring.”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
The bill is returned. Kiyomi adores the comfortable pause as she signs her name, returning her card to her disappointed wallet. Downing the small pool at the bottom of her glass she falsely checks her watch.  
  
“It’s late.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
There is an unspoken need permeating from both of them. They leave the table in idle chatter which runs dry on the street. Turning to him she delivers a courteous bow, “Thank you for indulging my curiosities this evening, Eraldo. It was wonderful sharing conversation with you.”  
  
“Likewise.” he catches her hand and gently thumbs the back, “May I drive you home, Kiyomi?”  
  
“You may.”  
  
He did.  
  
The car was expensive and smelt new, probably bought when he came over to Japan or by whoever snuck him into the NHN ranks. The vehicle responded well to his smooth driving. Modern rap music quietly played from the growling bass enveloping the perimeter around them. Mild conversation was backup vocals as excitement welled in her. Undoubtedly he would want more once the car parked.  
  
He did.  
  
The moment it shifted into park he turned to sway her into physicality. She is the one in charge. She is the goddess, he is a plain man with blessed fortune. Grabbing the nape of his neck their lips joined. He tasted like aftershave and leather and the food recently shared.  
  
It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great. It was satisfactory.  
  
He was given a through thirty minutes with her. They explored one another’s mouths and bodies through the limitations of clothing. Lack of underwear was discovered, which now occupies her dressing room trashcan. Relaxing into his experienced touch, she let him almost get her off. At the height of it she maneuvered the door open to slip out. He gaped back with complete bewilderment, but also in infatuation. It was clear he never met a woman like her.  
  
Checking the edges of her lipstick with the tips of her fingers she corrects her dress.  
  
“Have a good night, Mr. Coil.”  
  
Rolling down the window, he shuts the door, leaning out the opening, “Dinner tomorrow night. My treat.”  
  
“Sorry. I have plans. Another night. I’ll call you.”  
  
Kiyomi didn’t call him. He texted her by the time she locked her apartment door with photographic proof of his eagerness.  
  
_'Disgusting.'_  
  
—-  
  
It’s morning again. Mornings work like that. They used to not mean anything but they do now. Nights didn’t meant anything either, now they hold value. Only in the morning and at night, late at night, do they have time to be themselves be it tangled in their unspoken game or one another, shedding the veil of reality. For the sake of his sanity he has to disassociate around his lover of sorts, or else he’d fall into a nasty pit of despair clawing for escape or jumping the fun for a conclusion.  
  
From the comfort of the chair across from the bed he checks his emails, updating cases, which were few and far between no thanks to Kira, and monitoring Near’s secondary evaluation. Thus far nothing to report.  
_  
‘Odd that it’s been three days and he still has nothing?’_ L chews on a fingertip, _‘Was Mello serious when he mentioned the battery eating…? Probably not…’  
_  
Hearing the shower draw to a close, juxtaposing thoughts cross his mind as he sends a brisk reply then switches to a slideshow of a victim’s exposed vermilion throat. As of late, Light has developed a new habit of going to the onsite gym at five in the morning for approximately an hour and twenty minutes- thirty minutes if he stretches between sets, which he should. Afterwards he’s usually back in their room to shower, but not after harassing the detective with a hasty strip show that typically resulted in furious muted fighting between their mouths. This morning Light was victorious, having displayed his remaining athletic strength from high school, hoisting L in his arms with dizzying kisses to deposit him on the bathroom counter.  
  
Waiting for the shower to warm to Light’s preferred temperature, pathetically lukewarm if one asked L, they indulged in lackadaisical tongue play. The musky sourness of the workout was unknowingly alluring to L. Usually smells like that are revolting, but on Light it could pass for cologne. Somehow they did not have sex on the counter. Instead, a sweat lined head rested against hunched collarbones where wandering fingers started to massage a tired neck. They stayed like that not long enough before that forehead departed, full lips parting to smile at him like they smiled when that mind was vacant of supposed evil.  
  
“Thank you.” he murmured, a mouth temporarily empty of a killer gifted a comfortable kiss. Tender hands reached up to hold the sides of L’s face, stroking sharp cheekbones, “You give a pretty decent massage. Something used-”  
  
“For a previous case?” his hand rested against the curve of Light’s neck meeting his shoulder, “No. For Watari actually.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“He’s an old man. It was for a lot of things. Mostly we hire someone, but there are times.” he shrugged, “I don’t mind.”  
  
“I don’t mind either.” another kiss, more sweet. He wanted something.  
  
“Yes, you can have one after you bathe.”  
  
A laugh, a real one, “At what point do you think we’ll stop talking?”   
  
“At this rate…” a finger stroked a bottom lip aimlessly, “Four months.”  
  
His expression stagnated, “Do you think this case will go on that much longer?”  
  
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a case like this before. There are too many variables that are…unknown and that are still being figured out.”  
  
“What happens when it does end?”  
  
That astounded him.  
  
“What…happens?” the stroking slowed, “That is entirely dependent on who Kira is. If it’s you…well, I’ve said to before, death penalty or life in prison, that goes for whoever is guilty. If it’s not you then I suppose we’ll go back to the version of normal that awaits us post-Kira.”  
  
“Where would you go?”  
  
“To my next case.”  
  
“Would you let me come with you?”  
  
That wounded L worse than if Light stabbed him. It pained him crueler than any action Light could possibly think of. Nothing physically can compare to the pressure that threatened to internally collapse him. There was no indication of the agony. But L was certain Light could sense it. They were always that close, they always will be. He knows they cannot be without the other, not entirely.  
  
“I’m used to working alone.”  
  
“I can tell you don’t like that though.” He turned on his charm, swaying closer. Arms snaked around L’s waist, closing the gap between their bodies, “Admit it, L. You’d be lonely without me.”  
  
“I was lonely before you.”  
  
“But now you know what it’s like to not be.” his breath was intoxicating, a drug perfuming L’s senses, “You’re hooked on companionship.”  
  
“Companionship will not fulfill my obligations or my work.”  
  
“Not at all. I’m not saying abandon that in the slightest, I wouldn’t want you without your ambition.” it’s horrible how well spoken he is, “You’re a liar, you have had company. It's not company that fulfilled you or matched your intellectual prowess.”  
  
“You match my intellect.”  
  
“And you match mine.”  
  
“My lifestyle can be dull and dangerous and…”  
  
“I don’t care. L there isn’t anything you can say to deter my wanting with be with you when this inevitably ends. All I want to know is if there is a place for me in your world.”  
  
The aching was ripping throughout every muscle attached to his skeleton. What had he done to have wound up in this exact bathroom, swept up by this deviously, likely murderer abolishing more than life. He was actively uprooting L’s very core beliefs as far as his self perspective and priorities were concerned.  
  
“I have thought extensively of what timeline could occur at the conclusion of this case. Even discussing this with Watari. Initially i justified the things I theoretically bent. Lately further reflection has led me to believe that letting you be apart of it would be…selfish.”  
  
“I’m asking. You wouldn’t make me do anything. If you’re selfish, so am I.”  
  
“This conversation is premature given the circumstances.”  
  
“That’s fair.” he lifted his face to place his lips to L’s cheeks, “I don’t know where that came from.” he nervously exhaled, squeezing the body beneath his hands then stepped back, “We shouldn’t dwell on the future right now. It’ll just distract us. And frankly, it's kinda depressing.”  
  
“The present is much more distracting than that.” his eyes lingered on Light’s exposed body unashamedly.  
  
“Pervert.”  
  
“If you insist.”  
  
That terminology certainly has come up more times than comfortable throughout this investigation. Firstly, from Misa Amane while in confinement, a treatment used previously on countless suspects, none of which turned to name calling. Secondly, also from Misa Amane, apologizing for calling him a pervert, but her attitude certainly indicated that until the proposed undercover mission for her, she still thought of him as such. All the other instances have been from Light, jokingly of course. No matter the intent of diction, that word would rue the day it no longer holds the power to shake L to his core.  
  
He didn’t want to be a pervert. Somehow he has this notion that perverts make a deliberate choice for perversion. Yet he accidentally reaches awareness in the midst of apparent provocative behavior. Previous instances were honestly unintentionally circumstantial. Unlike the current one of Light toweling off his naked body post shower and standing in front of the closet riddles his thoughts with nothing less than perverted.  
  
Abandoning the laptop he shuffles to stand behind the naked form debating one shade of khaki from another. He runs his hands around and up a humid torso clinging to inklings of shower heat. He drags his lips across exposed shoulder blades, down the spine, lowering to crouch at his ass. Gripping the impromptu prize between his hands he gathers handfuls in repetition to gain access to his impulsive choice. It's purely because he is wanting to.  
  
A tongue dips to tease his entrance while shuddered gasps trickle out. He sounds vaguely annoyed, but pleased, “This isn’t that massage you promised.”  
  
Resting his chin on the other’s lower back he halts, “Do you want me to stop?”  
  
Coy almond eyes peer behind a nude wall, “…no. But I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if you continue.”  
  
“I can get you off in...ten minutes.”  
  
“I don’t doubt it. And then I’ll be ‘dirty' and you’ll make me shower later tonight before we do anything.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And sometimes I like just fucking without preemptively grooming for your ridiculous standards.”  
  
“I think you like it.” he tightens his grip, diving back in garnering an indigent exclamation.  
  
Furious hands scuffle at flyaway black hair as Light contorts wildly, half-jokingly attempting escape, “We can’t be late again!”  
  
“Ten minutes is all I ask.”  
  
“And I said I’d want to fuck you afterwards. We don’t have time.”  
  
Curiosity swirls his features, “…you want to fuck me?”  
  
“Yes?” ,color flares across his cheeks momentarily, “Is that so surprising?”  
  
“Not entirely…however you seem so…complacent with submission.”  
  
“Fuck you. Let go.”  
  
“By all means, fuck me sometime. I don’t think you’d be up to standard, but I’d like to see you try.”  
  
The challenge flickers in Light’s eyes. His mouth works adamantly to suppress displayed amusement, “Big talk from someone who was practically crying when I first sucked your dick.”  
  
“I wasn’t crying.” he stands up, pocketing his hands.  
  
“Prac-tic-al-ly.” with each syllable Light jeers closer.

“Hmm.”  
  
Abruptly swaying back to the closet he resumes dressing, “Don’t tell me you didn’t think I’d just be taking your dick up my ass for the rest of our intimate relations.”  
  
“I’ve ridden you plenty. To the point of muteness on your behalf.”  
  
“True, but you’ve been denied the pleasure of me throughly fucking you.” his hair is askew from pulling on a sweater, “I know I give good head. Imagine how,” he’s closer again, L’s breath catches as a hand runs along his waistband, “,absolutely deplorable you’d look taking my cock.”  
  
“You’ve attempted. Never succeeded.”  
  
“I wasn’t really trying.” that hand is now behind the elastic of boxer briefs, “I let you have those times because it’s what I’ve wanted, L. Now…” he gives an already hardened member a teasing stroke, “…I want something else.” his hand works to fondle the other’s balls, then maneuvers to slam L into the nearest wall.  
  
Using his knees, he forces the man’s legs apart. Then wrenches his jeans and underwear low enough to stay on shivering thighs. L in this state is exhilarating. Light claims the smallest moment to savor the rapid undoing of the other man, messily wilting under his touch. Quite worth all of the degradation to be standing here, taking his first of endless triumphant checkmates to overturn the bastard’s board.  
_  
‘Well done, L, Ryuzaki…that’s right, I’ve played my game well with you, eagerly submitting to gain your trust. Now it's time we reverse the narrative. I need you as desperate for me as I am yo-’_ the thought is nauseating, the heat of the prize literally beneath his grasp keeps him stable, _‘I am not desperate for anything. Or anyone. Especially not this man of all people. He’s nothing. Just another pawn, he’s valuable, he’s a threat, he’s…’_  
_  
‘Who I want by my side when this rotting world is reborn a haven.’_ the suppressed voice within replies, genuinely enjoying the sight wantonly begging for more, _‘The plan can change in aspects. Fighting this will only lead to your downfall. Stop trying to re-work the past ideals to the current. The new goal is to demolish him into a high functioning equal. How many times do I have to remind myself of this? The new game, as far as L is concerned, is to convert him, not lose him or lose to him. It’s the only compromise possible.’_  
_  
‘There are no absolutes in this war.’_ he strokes L’s hair, a coarse softness he’s grown to love, _‘Only multiple pathways to the ultimate goal. Nothing more. Emotions, the real ones, will only lead to ruin. They are tools, supplemental material lacking actual value. Humanity was sacrificed the moment I agreed to be a god.’_  
  
Suckling on his ear he breathes hotly, “I’ll have you a whimpering mess.” he rasps, “You’ll be ravaged by me. You’ll be crying for my cock. I’ll have you begging for me to suck yours.”  
  
Using the pre-cum as lubricant he quickens his pace. Pinning L in place by the throat he starts rubbing his own erection on the other’s leg, “I’ll tie you up. You won’t be able to move. You’ll like that. I’ll whip you, spank you, use your mouth to my satisfaction. I’ll get a fraction of my vengeance, something I know you’ve been patiently waiting for me to exact.”  
  
“Yes.” he moans, visions of Light completely abusing him arousing beyond belief, “I want that.”  
  
“You want to be degraded.”  
  
A whine.  
  
Light hardens his grip.  
  
“Let’s practice, you tyrant.”  
  
His mind fades. It swims trying to pinpoint how the hell this started. Has it been ten minutes? It doesn’t matter. All that does is Light kissing on his ear, lapping and heaving erotic soundtracks, driving him mad. Squirming against the seduction he’s slammed back into the wall, worsening his arousal. Groaning, the noise is stifled as his trachea is perfectly crushed.  
  
“You want to be degraded.” Light repeats, “Answer me or I stop.”  
  
“Yes!” he gasps, “Yes I do!”  
  
The clap of a stark backhand cracks the air.  
  
It is incredible. He comes immediately in uncontrollable weeping. The power of unmanageable need has him crumpling into Light, thrusting without intent. Atrocious simpering wracks to an unrecognizably repellent display of supplication when the mouth spewing dirty words relaxes around his cock. Acquiescing to carnal lamentation, greedy hands thread into lush hair using it to ground him to a marginal degree. Stooping over Light, he battles his weakening knees and recoiling abdomen as that serpentine tongue works its devilry driving out his climax. Encouraged vibrations permits him to fuck that mouth until he accidentally releases a secondary orgasm.  
  
Light’s mouth departs with the world, leaving a blurring whirlwind of disoriented euphoria dissipating through his muscles and bones. Falling to his knees he works to catch his breath as waiting arms expectantly gather him. Dangerous lips litter his face with invisible affection and caring hands further the disarray of his hair. They lie down on the floor in a labored quandary. Claiming unsteady breathes he resentfully matches a smug gaze showing off the face of his watch.  
  
“Nine minutes. I win.”  
  
“For now.”

—-

The tension of their morning was palpable.Only if one was present in that room, or watching on a monitor, would the innuendos spouted between them be labeled radically lewd. It started off innocently enough by piggybacking of a jab at Matsuda made by Mogi of all people. But, it escalated to a very un-funny spitballing of who could say the most inappropriate insult to the other with the most egregious vocabulary possible.  
  
Watching two intellectual giants abuse the privilege of language was equivalent to a political circus or capitalist acrobatics. Neither of them made sense if one knew the words being slung, nor was the buildup appropriate. Outwardly the exchanges could pass as a brawl, or an elevated martial spat, but the participants were doing it purely from a source of boredom, sexual frustration and spite.  
  
Sorichiro was in a place of both shame and pride of Light’s vast knowledge of varying ways to describe the male anus, as well as the multitude of choice objects their lead detective could insert into it. Mostly, he was overcome by uncertainty and secondhand embarrassment; neither unsure or confidant enough to intervene. They weren’t hitting each other yet, that was his personal limitation to the feud.  
  
Feeling responsible for a face-value fight, Matsuda tirelessly flew the colors of surrender trying to subdue the raging bickering to no avail. Eventually it dwindled down for an hour or two, but then one or the other would have a question or request which would be met or returned with avarice. Their day was taxing enough, and the constant banter reached a point of no return with Aizawa, who gripped the back of both their chairs, wrenched them apart and claimed a spot between.  
  
Huffing into his paperwork he slams a print out of the television schedule of the week, jabbing a parental finger at the box marked ‘Tonight With Miss Takada: Pilot Special Guest!’.  
  
“How about instead of listing the many, _many_ creative ways you two could end up in the hospital with foreign objects up your asses, we get one or both of you on this guest?” he isn’t so much as yelling, but loudly talking in a firm manner that would make any small child halt their misbehavior,“I thought we were focusing some energy on Takada since she’s suspiciously successful in a direct correlation with the Third Kira’s influx of power?”  
  
“Ah, yes I do have information on that.” L swivels to his monitor, sharing his computer screen displaying an email from Aiber once again borrowing the alias 'Eraldo Coil', “We have a report back. He’s been approached by Miss Takada. So far nothing of severe interested to report, however her making the first move is very interesting to me.”  
  
“Why is that?” Soichiro inquires, “Could she not just be trying to continue climbing the ropes? It doesn’t mean a connection to Kira.”  
  
“If by climbing the ropes you mean, severely flirting with her boss, then sure, I’m certain this is one of her many tactics of achievement.” L replies, “Remember, she is a vocal Kira supporter, she’s been working her way through NHN ranks at a breakneck pace. I wonder why that is? To find Kira? To find power? To offer herself to Kira? There is a possibility that she might have a notebook if that’s the case.”  
  
Light fights the urge to snicker, _‘Kiyomi. With a death note? What a joke.’_ he scans over Aiber’s notes of their dinners and conversations, _‘If she did own one I’d probably be dead with how bitter she was at dinner.’  
_  
“Ah damn!” Matsuda proclaims collapsing onto the desktop in a princess-like fashion, “I guess that’s ruins my chances with her! Awww Taki, gone too soon!”  
  
“That is not the concern right now!” Aizawa snaps, patience already spent, “…you had her number?”  
  
“Kinda?” he rubs his neck, “It’s a long story…”  
  
“It’s one we don’t need.” Soichiro adds.  
  
“Anyways.” L stabs into a dessert, speaking around it, “Unsure to tell right now. I think we’ll get a better grasp of the situation the more Aiber investigates. This is all entirely speculation, but I think in time, Kira may contact her. He is without a spokesperson. I imagine he’s trying to find the best possible person. There is a three-percent chance that he is among the NHN ranks already and is behind Miss Takada’s show to either groom her into the position, or to search celebrities, others of power and wealth to assume the role. That could secure a wide range of stability for Kira. It wouldn’t be great news for us. However, it would narrow our search.”  
  
“I don’t think Kira’s at NHN, Ryuzaki.” Light comments, “If he were don’t you think that his plan for media manipulation would be a bit more aggressive than this?”  
  
“Not if he’s being careful. While this Third Kira is just as merciless as the First with how rapidly criminals are being killed, the Third is safe. I imagine he’s acting on the First’s orders to upkeep the work, so to speak, not openly challenging us.”  
  
“So with the First, frankly speaking, you still think to be me- correct?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
A collection of intermittent heaved disagreements from the task force.  
  
“Ryuzaki, we’ve already-”  
  
“It’s a low chance, Mr. Aizawa, but still a possibility. It would be foolish to-”  
  
“What about Misa-Misa then?” Matsuda pipes in, “I know she’s under crazy heavy surveillance still, but hasn’t been linked to any of the Kira killings. She seems to be free of any guilt there.”  
  
Knowledge darkens L’s features as he rakes the fork across his bottom lip, “…not guilty, hmm?” ,his attention shifts to Light, “She contacts you everyday.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“Begging for your relationship to be re-started.”  
_  
‘Do you really suspect her constant berating? She’s tried to break into the task force and has stalked me at school outside of my telling her. It’s Misa, she’s crazy. I’m more than certain you have my phone bugged, hers as well. There’s no way you have decoded her messages and voicemails. It’s too…simple.’_ Light frowns, shifting to face the man on the other side of Aizawa, _‘Also why bring this up so publicly? He knows something. But what? I doubt he's found her private cell phone. If he did she'd be detained by now. Maybe this is his roundabout announcement of that? ...I wouldn't put it past him.’_  
  
“Well, yeah!” Matsuda interjects as Light inhales to reply, “She’s heartbroken, Ryuzaki! You see her on the tapes, she’s really lonely. Of _course_ she’s contacting Light.”  
  
“Exactly.” Light agrees, “Besides, I don’t respond to her. I find it rude to lead her on like that. We might get back together, but I’d like the Kira investigation to be behind us before entertaining that.”  
  
“We aren’t here to dissect Light and Misa’s relationship.” Soichiro concludes, “I do agree with Matsuda, our surveillance of Miss Amane isn’t showing much. Perhaps we should conclude it and spend our time investigating NHN as invasively as possible? Especially since there’s a probability of Kira already being apart of their organize and or Kira contacting them.”  
  
“Kira has already contacted them.” L replies, “Or at least someone with Kira’s powers has.”  
_  
‘That’s a very bold move, Mikami.’_ Light isn’t pleased by this news but maintains the mask of surprise, “When were you going to mention this, Ryuzaki? Can we confirm this?”  
  
“We can.” the email pulls up, “Aiber sent these this morning. While you were likely preoccupied with the exploratory pulchritude of your masculinity in the early hours of the morning," Light inhales to jab back at him as Matsuda snickers, but is interrupted. ",he’s been working to get the phone call as evidence to no avail. Presently, Wedy is having a difficult time obtaining this phone call. They’re keeping it under tight surveillance.”  
  
“I wonder why that is…” Aizawa murmurs, “Do you think they made a deal with Kira? Like with Yotsuba?”  
  
“Perhaps.” L plays with his mouth while speaking, “According to Aiber’s message as seen here, the contact was a pre-recorded message more or less openly allowing NHN to do as they please with the request of a spokesperson be chosen for Kira. I find it strange that Kira would ask this and not just select one himself. This leads me to think that he may already established at NHN and this is his cover to avoid suspicion. Or…he's working with Misa Amane, who was the immediate choice by the men in the meeting.”  
_  
‘…anyone but her.’_ Light laments, _‘Literally anyone else but her. Mikami if this is your doing, what are you thinking?!’  
_  
“I can confirm that NHN has booked her for Takada’s special this Friday.” Mogi informs them, “I didn’t think much of it. If Misa does have connection, it is not out of consent. Acting as her manager and out of the interest of the case I had to heavily convince her to appear. She doesn’t like Miss Takada due to personal reasons and refused to share the spotlight with her.”  
  
“Interesting…” L muses, “She didn’t want to go at all?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Only out of petty spite?”  
  
“As far as I could tell.” Mogi nods.  
  
“That changes the picture. It doesn’t make her as innocent as we would like to believe. Her appearing on the show is of use to us, though.”  
  
“Ryuzaki, don't you think if we’re going to use use Misa like this, it might be worth considering having her informed to some degree?” Soichiro requests, “She was very useful during the Yotsuba investigation, even getting a confession from Kira. Her…skills could be advantageous in this situation as well.”  
  
“I agree, she’s quite talented in those regards.” L steadies himself, “But I cannot risk her being apart of the Kira investigation out of our safety.”  
  
“That’s a load of bull.” Aizawa grumbles.  
  
“Not at all. You see…and I imagine you all may not take this well, but this seems relevant as ever to bring this up; I have made an additional discovery about the notebook that further incriminates Misa as the Second Kira and instates my suspicions of Light as the First Kira.”  
  
The room instantaneously floods with dubitation.  
  
“I tested the notebook.” he facetiously admits, “The thirteen day rule is false. And scraps of the notebook can be used to the same degree as full pages. I knew you all would not agree but for the sake of the investigation, this had to be done. I apologize, the situation has grown in complexity.”  
  
Shock grips the team. Strangled processing stammers from some mouths while other’s disassociate in contemplation. Trepidation sweeps through Light, asphyxiating him with the revived embers of the beginnings of their games, shooting a hearty dose of adrenaline into clean veins. This game continues to climb to better heights, sweetening the gamble, the risks, the eventual accolades. The urge to laugh almost ruptures him. However it is unmatched to the uncanny impulse to grab L and crush their mouths together. He wishes to wring him in his hands and leer in question, demanding to know every detail. Light yearns for them to share yet another similarity, he is desperate to hinge onto the awful parts of L to exploit them to amplification.  
  
“How did you do it?" Aizawa spits, wrenching away from his spot beside the detective, "What did you-we agreed! What was the pint of having the meeting?! Going to the ICPO?!”  
  
“It was morally correct as possible, don't worry." L curls into himself tighter as composed as possible, “We had two inmates; one wrote the other's name in the notebook, the one who was schedule to die that day. Specifications were written to ensure the most peaceful passing. As anticipated, the inmate died to those exact words written by the inmate testing the thirteen day rule. A timer was set for thirteen days and forty seconds, after which the remaining inmate did not die."  
  
Fury builds in the other members as Light inquires, "Wait, you said you had the first inmate write in the notebook…not a piece of it. How did you-"  
  
"There are greater problems at hand. Dangerous people found out about the death note and are wanting to use the notebook, and Kira, to their agendas. In order to scare them off I had to make the rule seem real.” L looks to Light, "I wrote the second inmate's name on a scrap, also with the peaceful instructions. It happened as written. This information is invaluable.”  
  
“You idiot!" Light shouts, fists curling at his sides as if infuriated, when that couldn't be farther from the truth. He is enamored by the man across from him, an opponent further carves himself into a worthy pawn, an even more qualified equal. Yes, there is pain in the cheating, but more beneficiary qualities are presenting themselves. L is more than he could've ever hoped for. Assuming the mask of choices driven by anger, by Light Yagami, not a salivating god immensely pleased and ready to have his adversary then and there, he dives into the hyping pristine rage,“You could've died!”  
  
“It was a calculated risk I already knew the outcome of.”  
  
“There are too many unknowns of the death note! You didn't know anything for certain!” leaning into the feigned emotions he lurches forward, landing a cracked punch into L’s cheek.  
  
A shout escapes the other’s lips as he reflexively lifts a leg ready to strike. Light is quicker, grabbing L's ankle, throwing him from the chair onto the tile with a sickening crash.  
  
“What _was_ the point of the meetings?!"  
  
He slams his foot into a coiling form swearing he felt a rib give in.  
  
"Or this investigation?!”

"Light! Hey, knock it off!" Matsuda shouts. He moves to interrupt them, Aizawa catches his bicep to pull him away.   
  
Wrenching L to his back, Light straddles him. Fists enjoys each rough blow landing on the man's face while speaking.  
  
“Do we mean nothing to you?!”  
  
By the third punch defenses arise, blocking his line of offense. He switches to focusing on avoiding defensive forearms but also opposing fists.  
  
“We agreed to act as if the rules were false! You had no right!”  
  
Thighs tighten around bucking hips demanding enough space to torc free. An elbow slices into Light's sternum, staling the air from him.  
  
“This is _my_ investigation!” L declares in a voice Light doesn't recognize.  
_  
‘Did he just...yell?’  
_  
Using the seconds of surprise, the victim throws off his assailant, establishing a defensive crouch, “I have _every_ right."  
  
“Why?! Because you're above the law?!" Light taunts, “Because you're the world's greatest?! You're a liar! You're desperate and you're no better than Kira!" he lunches, the two tumbling into the chairs, clamoring against one another in a feral manner.  
  
“I am righteous! I am working to _stop_ Kira! To _stop_ unwarranted murder.”  
  
“Shut up! You're just as much a murderer as Kira is! All because you _still_ can't stand being wrong! You refuse to quit unless I am Kira! Do you see how wrong that is?!" he yells as he pins L down slamming his fist over and over and over, finally really letting out a years worth of suppressed resentment, "It's ruining any chances of _actual_ justice!"   
  
L cracks his knee up into Light's stomach, scrambling away as Soichiro pries his son from the floor, still squirming in provocation of an unresolved fight. Crawling back into his seat L hides the heated throbbing on his face as Light shouts, "Let go of me, Dad!"  
  
“Light! Stop this!" Soichiro grunts. He tightens his hold on his son, pulling him away from the scene, "Go home. You've done enough."  
  
Breathing unevenly, Light seethes in invisible pleasure of playing his role, harvesting an unexpected reward. However, he doesn't enjoy how his heart weighs at the pathetic sight of welts forming on his lover's face, apparent agony on his features. They are undetectable by the task force, but overtly on display to Light. Members shift uncomfortably as L compose himself to say, “There are people you don't and shouldn't know about. For your safety I will leave this information at this: they are extremely wealthy harboring incomprehensible power. I only deal with them when they interfere with my investigations, often times funding to have them shut down. If money doesn't work they override governments, policing, media, you name it. This had to be done. For these reasons and to get us closer to bringing Kira to justi-“  
  
"You cannot pin your fucking arrogance and blatant disrespect on some conspiracy plot, Ryuzaki!" Aizawa snarls, acrimony threatening his blood vessels.  
  
"Aizawa..." Matsuda meekly warns.  
  
“Shut up, Matsuda! You've treated this like a glorified spy movie since we got here! _Shut! Up!_ "  
  
“Hey. Watch yourself." Mogi ushers, standing between Aizawa and Matsuda also on guard to break up an attempt on L again.  
  
"Don't any of you defend him! Light's right! We came to an agreement and you not only broke our trust but have proven your lacking morals and respect for everyone on this task force. You don't trust us, you don't even respect us! Keeping your secrets probably would've works out best for you, bastard! Why tell us now?! Huh?!”  
  
Without missing a beat, he evenly replies, "I value all of you immensely. Your work has and is appreciated. Know that my actions are not out of any ill will towards you , but of respect. As I said, these were preventative measures to protect you. Although I see now, perhaps that has proven…counteractive for our team.”  
  
Still baiting his son, Soichiro addresses L over his shoulder, “As I see it, you kept this secret because you still suspect Light."  
  
"I do. Even more so given our new data."  
  
A defeating sigh leaves the chief's lips as Aizawa tears off his belt, slamming it on the desk in declaration.  
  
"I've had enough!”  
  
While he stalks out of the room, L concludes with, “This has grown into an extremely high profile, high risk operation; the worst I've faced to be perfectly clear. If you wish to relieve yourselves of the case, I will not stop you. It is only fair you are aware of the newfound risks. Anyone who remains must be wholly dedicated and willing to possibly die or worse for the case.”  
  
“Or worse?" Matsuda squeaks.  
  
L swings back to the computer monitor, "Thank you. You have twenty-four hours to mull this over. Anyone who does not return within that timeframe will be considered terminated from the case. Should you retract your aid, you will be under constant watch out of security concern. That is all.”  
  
“Fucking bastard.” Aizawa spits, signaling his exit.  
  
L bets a seventy-eight percent chance he won’t return.  
  
Ide remains, “I intend to stay based off of Aizawa’s decision, Ryuzaki. As of now I am undecided but need time from here to process the information given.”  
  
“Of course." L dismisses.

Ide calmly strides out at a pace bordering running, likely to catch up to Aizawa.  
  
“I don't need time, Ryuzaki." Matsuda murmurs,”I feel like we're just as bad as Kira right now…I want to catch him more than ever." ,forlorn eyes lock on the hunched back, optimism temporarily draining from his features, ”I just want you to know that I don't respect your decision.”  
_  
‘Not surprising, since you probably cannot grasp the gravity of the situation at hand.’_ L internally replies, but instead says, "I understand. Thank you for your loyalty, Mr. Matsuda.”  
  
Matsuda then retreats from the tense environment.  
  
Soichiro gently speaks to his son, “Are you okay?"  
  
“I'm fine, Dad."  
  
_'I'm more than fine! I'm ecstatic! Look, L, all of your pawns are falling away, one by one, because you sought to defy me! This is too easy, I never expected you to use the notebook yourself! Obviously I expected you to use inmates, then stake your life, but you really did it, you faced the challenge. Soon you'll be crawling to the mercy of Kira!'_ ,he's very grateful that laugher and borderline crying are very alike in both facial and verbal expressions as he shakily struggles with cackling pleading to burst through.  
  
“You're not fine.” Soichiro insists, holding his son tightly to survey him, “Please go home, Light. Think this case over. Think all that's happened over. I’ll respect whatever decision you come to.”  
  
"I appreciate it, Dad.” Light gently smiles. Gingerly maneuvering past him he bares L with such distain that the man vaguely believes he may be as despicable as implied. “Ryuzaki.” he says evenly, “If you want this team to function properly, doing so with honestly might get you the results you're looking for.”   
  
He leans in closer. Soichiro’s body shifts, ready to snatch his son from another potential fistfight. Nothing is struck physically but with the subtext from before, this instance lacking comfort, “Do you even want me on the team?”  
_  
‘Why does this hurt so horrendously?’_ L wonders, aching to touch him. He wishes to apologize, or to choke him with his own hands to finalize the question of his debated duality, “I do want you. However, I understand the stress my constant suspicions must cause you. If you wish to retract your assistance, I will not fault you. You will be under strict watch, any questionable behavior will land you in twenty-four observational detainment again, irregardless of you staying with us or not.”  
  
A chortle taunts L, “…detainment. I’m sure you have a space already _accommodated_ , just like before, don't you?”  
  
“Yes."  
  
Light withdraws to stand, “It’s probably less hassle to resume working with you at headquarters, but I'll need time to mull it over.”  
  
Their stare lasts longer than either meant to. They need it to forgo breaking.  
  
“I understand."  
  
“See you at home, Dad.” Light calls as he makes his way to leave  
  
“Actually," L's one word stop him dead in his tracks, “…given the circumstances, you’ll have to spend one more night here if you decide to return home. We need time to bug your home to upkeep observation.”  
  
“I see. Well. One more night can’t hurt.”  
  
L infers that jab as they may have one more night together to sort out the situations at hand. The real debate is if they'll still be sharing their room. Watching with a chest increasing in pressure, he half-heartedly listens to the toiling questions of remaining members swarm him. Nothing is that important, all that is of true interest is Light, Kira, his reactions what he will do.  
  
_‘Surely you'll leave, residing back to your room with your parents home. Maybe you'll ask to move out, an apartment at your age isn't irregular. That would give you, Kira, more room to be flexible, lay your traps. Or will you act as Light Yagami, behaving as a wounded victim retreating from my grasp? After all, coupled with our sexual partnership I imagine this would hurt you even if you aren't Kira._ _You may stand your ground, but these other options are too fortuitous for you, innocent or guilty…’_  
  
Cutting the pondering short, he dedicates himself to calmly reassure Mr. Yagami and Mogi of the stances of the investigation, staying in the room for hours going into more detail to finely outline the insanity of the situation. Mogi was comforted by that intel alone, excusing itself for the evening, promising to return in the morning but was met with L's dismissal of, "Leave the investigation to me for tomorrow. I'd like it to be a rest day in light of the events today."  
  
Eventually he soothes the immediate doubts in the chief's mind going so far as to explain the confidential aspects in depth. He trusts the chief most of all, aside from Light and Mogi, they are the ensemble team he would genuinely advocate to continue. Hours later, Soichiro is satisfied enough to pledge his loyalty once more, but not without a slight lecture of proper management tactics. He and Watari could be twins at times. L releases himself, concluding the uncomfortable debated explanations.  
  
On the journey to their room, L's mouth works reverently to dismantle his nail bed. One peek on the cameras would give him his answer regarding his intimate conundrum but he wanted to see it with his own eyes. There is a thrill in that chance of unknowing what side the coin will land on. That's part of why he enjoys Light so much, the man truly does exist as a consistently irregular variable in his life. It's refreshing. He hesitates at the door handle. Nerves open it to a pristine room.  
  
The lamps are left on, casting a gentle warm glow even to the dark foyer. Calming his hand to not shake, he clicks on the overhead bulbs, not seeing the familiar Italian loafers by the door. He's bilious as he wanders to the bathroom, greeted by his set of toiletries lacking the extra pair usually perpendicular. Memories of the morning ghost the countertop, two manipulative fools tangled in one another, behaving crudely saccharine.  
  
Hastily, he shuffles to the closet, jerking back the doors to a picked over wardrobe beside his stacked uniforms. It stings. He expected this, why does it start to torture him? They weren't anything _real_ , it was all likely a game for them both. This is just another part of the venture.  
_  
'I shouldn't feel like this..it's wrong.'_

Dread finally sticks as he meanders past the small desk Light uses for his school work. Normally his books are stacked in an orderly fashion against the wall with the laptop L got him at the center. Now it’s empty. Touching it he recalls the late night images of stealing glances of watching him work while L tackled emails and got on case calls while Light tuned him out with headphones or went to the on site library meets sitting room of sorts a few floors below.  
_  
‘…there it is. His percentage has risen. Yet this could possibly be out of emotional upset. I won’t fault him should this not trace back to any benefit to Kira.’_ L resigns.  
  
Their once cozied space is claustrophobic and empty. He needs space. Maybe the roof but that is too long an elevator ride, too high a risk to encounter another person when he requires isolation. Opening the door to the balcony he almost doesn’t see the missing person leaning on the railing with a modest accessory suitcase by his feet. The noise draws morose contemplation from the cityscape long enough to recognize him. Somber almond eyes return to the myriad of little plays bragging nicer narratives than theirs across the bustling streets.

He's beautiful. For once the detective thinks that Light isn't aware of that for the first time in him knowing his suspect. Surely he isn't marveling in his own gorgeous profile illuminated by dotted manmade stars. There is no reflective surfaces for him to see how mesmerizing his brown eyes are, or how his hair hangs to the perfected places on his facial structure or the stimulating wane of his shoulders draped in expensive clothing bought exclusively for him. Light is fortunate that he cannot always be stupefied by the sheer, radical luck of his appearance. No, the one staring is wretchedly hapless, rendered immobile.   
  
L wants to speak but nothing comes to mind that couldn't be considered rude or seal those suitcase wheels parting down the length of their space.

"I know what you're thinking." his words low, hummed.  
  
Wind lovingly lifts his perfectly lain hair as he observes his draped hands.  
  
"I'm not here because I'm Kira."

L wants to move forward. He wishes to touch him. He knows better.   
  
"Why?"  
  
A bizarre laugh strangulates a clearing throat.

He sounds pained, “…you don’t believe me."

Regretting the wrong choice words L hides his hands in his pockets, "I meant to say, why did you stay?"  
  
He cuts a frangible resolve into the man a cavernous five feet away. Something, remorse maybe, glimmers threateningly within his expression ripping into L mercilessly. The words struggling to leave his tongue are the resolution of his precedented explanation. That man, the variant that haunts L's dreams is standing here wearing a new agony that degrades him to a criminal. Utter heartbreak urges his lover's features to cease his speech, it allows a whispered final, "...because I love you. I really do.”  
  
It is the first time L believes those words. Tragically, not without reservation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is twenty-one fucking pilots of pages in my word doc. 
> 
> I have a problem. You also have a problem if you got this far. But man, we here with this problem together, my friend. I have dugeth so far in the trash that I am a certified raccoon and know too much about the Lawliet surname. Also deepest condolences to anyone with that last name, the weebs really have wrecked your chances of finding family members on ancestry.com :/
> 
> Seriously guys thank you for rocking on this long, I keep thinking I see a light (bu-dum-tisssssss~) at the end of the tunnel, but plot wreckage and smutty needs just...block the path. 
> 
> This is going to be like 500K words and I"m going to hate that so much. Because like...I could be writing the next great novel of my generation, I got some dope ideas but like I'm here, playing literary pretend with goddamn death note fan fiction like a sad child who mistook an ant pile for a sandbox.
> 
> Does that make sense? Probably not. 
> 
> Did I do that once as a kid? Absolutely, I thought it was a normal pile of dirt, I thought fairies lives in mouse holes...it's a story :D 
> 
> Anyways. 
> 
> Please continue enabling me with in depth reviews bordering the bullshit Kiyomi most likely posts in her (and probs yours) online classes, since this is being written during the reign of Pandemic-chan, uwu


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This WAS supposed to be a fun Misa-Misa chapter, but just turned into a Misa plot chapter which honestly, not complaining. She certainly surprised me with her choices, as did L. 
> 
> Let it be known I don't ship them but I DO friend ship them very much. I feel like in some alternative universe after Light comes out of the closet with his grody gremlin man she comes around to befriending L and they harass Light together, the end. 
> 
> TW: mentions of eating disorders, again, not too graphic, Light just pretty much is like 'Vomit for justice, thanks.'

The phone calls happen like this:  
  
One: always on set, no matter the urgency. Asking to go to the bathroom is too obvious; merely go and announce when leaving. He said something about requesting permission seems too suspicious especially after the stunt she pulled during the Yotsuba investigation.  
  
Two: never actually have the conversation in the bathroom. It’s a great way to be overheard because they echo. Instead, go to the bathroom, watch if anyone’s trailing and divert into a storage closet instead. Keep it cracked just barely so you can watch while talking.  
  
Three: Should she need to 'use' a restroom to speak, run the water and pretend to vomit. He knew of her issues and while he didn’t encourage or care about the risks of enabling such behaviors, even to protect Kira’s agenda, he certainly didn’t deter them.  
  
“You don’t have to actually do it.” he said while faking a stern talk to her while on campus, taking her impulsivity to his advantage, “But your agency knows about it right?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“As I thought, it’s a perfect cover. No one’s going to suspect or question you. If they do, say that’s what you’re doing. It’ll derail the conversation.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
She hasn’t done something like that in eight months now, and she was proud of herself. However, faking the sounds gave the same impressions mentally but it is preferable to the true act. She’d run the faucet to hide her gathering water and toilet paper in her hands. While sputtering and gagging she’d slide the mess into the toilet bowl ,then cough and talk to herself. After the theatrics she’d call. Only twice has she had to do that, the second time she heard Mogi mutter sympathetics under his breath before his footsteps resonated a few steps down the hall. The sympathetic half-hug he gave her with a sudden boosted encouraged pep talk of how beautiful he thought she is, not discussing her physical assets almost made her cry.  
  
He would die someday, likely by her or Light or Mikami’s hand. Good people like Mogi deserved a place in Kira’s world, but his association with L preemptively signed his death warrant.  
  
Four: Texts are only to be done in the safety of a bathroom or an area without surveillance. Do not take out the phone in front of paparazzi certainly not at home.  
  
With her busy schedule, especially with having to reclaim lost time with confinement, she had a lot of time on sets to relay information to Mikami whilst following Light’s rules. Not once has one been broken nor has she considered doing as such until _that_ call was received.  
  
First came the text: _We need to talk._  
  
During lunch she called huddled in a storage closet with one eye watching the hallway.It was known that Mogi worked under L still, but now apparently anyone could. It was stressful. Speaking barely above a whisper she hardly breathed out, “You wanted to talk?” before he bulled his way, dominating the conversation.  
  
“I don’t have much time to speak with you, so listen.” he usually was calm, pretty nice. That day he was rough and rude, “I know who you are. I have your name and face. I have the notebook. I have the eyes. I am acting god, presently. Do you understand my implications?”  
  
Her blood ran cold, “…what do you want?”  
  
“Ownership.”  
  
“I can’t do that. It’ll mess with the plan. I won’t remember.”  
  
“Remember?”  
  
“That’s how it works. Without ownership or touching it, I’ll forget anything related to it. I won’t be of much use to you or him like that.”  
  
“I see…” he sighed, “That’s quite alright.”  
  
She could tell he made up his mind. No longer was she useful.  
  
“I have pages.” she snapped, “I know your information too.”

He smiled over the phone, “You’re more clever than you let on. That is…if you’re not lying.”  
  
“Guess you’ll find out if you die, huh?”  
  
“I suppose so, yes. My time is limited. I called for ownership transfer but…”  
  
“No way. It can’t happen, so just forget it. Stop acting like a dick, okay and do what _he_ says. It’s not that hard. You have what you need and let me remind you I am apart of that requirement. Without me you can’t talk to him.”  
  
“There are other ways.”  
  
“No, there aren’t.”  
  
“How would you know?”  
  
“I-”  
  
“Tell me, how involved were you with the investigation?”  
  
“Why do you want to know?”  
  
“For his benefit. Answer the questions.”  
  
“…depends on the questions, asshole.”  
  
“How involved were you?”  
  
“Involved.”  
  
“Who did you see or know? Did you see the team?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Did you see _him_?”  
  
“…yes. But I don’t have the information. Only what he looks like.”  
  
“That’s alright. Could you text me his description?”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Future reference.”  
  
“Okay…?”  
  
“Additionally, send me the names of all task force members whose names and faces I can verify online.”  
  
“Are you being told to do this?”  
  
“I am.”  
  
She still isn’t sure if that is a lie or not. Light’s plans never fully made sense to her until they already played out.  
  
“Alright then, sure. Anything else? You want, like, food delivered at this point?”  
  
He ignored her, “Thank you for your time.”  
  
The line went dead.  
  
Peeking out the door she continued to the bathroom. Leaning against a stall wall she texted the information, almost adding Light’s name to the list. Quickly accessing internet on the same phone, she searched Light’s name, seeing if anyone could possibly figure out if he’s working the Kira case. There wasn’t anything implying as such, just tabloid speculation and the same articles she found when she first sought him out. If Mikami and Light were somehow able to speak, she doubted that Light would reveal his identity to him. Only she was allowed to know that, aside from a death god.  
  
The list was sent without the name Light Yagami.  
  
She continued pantomiming going to the restroom and returned to work.  
  
Days had passed since that conversation, each one that ticked by weighed heavier with the impending question of _‘Am I going to die?’_  
  
Part of her cared, part of her didn’t. Truthfully speaking, she was becoming tired of the constant watching and pretending. But the idea of not getting to see Light again, to touch him or try to hold him or even smell him was worse than the concept of death. The finalization of her life was nothing in comparison in the eternal silence of never hearing him talk, adore how the contours of his face gathered shadows perfectly or perhaps maybe stealing another kiss. He has become her reason to live. She’s okay with that, without him her life would lack meaning anyway. It is either denial or ignorance that gives the illusion that she’s safe for now. Although the additional fear of losing him kept her in place instead of running back to him, needing some sort of human touch.  
  
She settled for to knocking on Hideki’s door again. This time it is just him answering, his five figure loungewear indicated he was off for the day but the chains on his neck is a muted schedule of an impending dinner or night out. He’s attractive, he’s nice when he isn’t too drunk and in the right atmosphere he can pass for Light- they even share the same cologne which was the selling point for her. If Misa and Light had sex before their parting, she would be more comfortable entertaining the idea of finally ‘putting out’ for Hideki. But to think that someone else would have been in her before the man she saw as a literal god disgusted her as much as she’s sure he would be revolted by this information. It was a closing deal if she ever saw one. 

So she would let him put it elsewhere, anywhere but _there_. That’s how she could get him to hold her, touch her hair, give her the intimacy she desperately craved, especially when Mikami’s threat gave her nightmares that would wake her up with screaming. The worst part was last night; she woke up throat raw from hours of panicked sobbing. Her phone rang; she half-awake answered it hoping it to be Light, she knew the task force watched her like most did daytime television.  
  
The hour of the call should’ve told her enough, but the shock of hearing that man’s voice on the other line made her want to retch.

“Miss Amane, are you…alright?  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
She hung up.  
  
He called back.  
  
“What?” she snapped, glaring around her room wondering which camera the pervert was watching from, “What the actual fuck do you want? It’s three in the morning.”  
  
“It’s the fifth night you’ve had a fit like this.”  
  
“So what?”  
  
“So I was wanting to check in. I figured it might be better than Watari calling.”  
  
“I would’ve preferred the old man. I’m fine, Ryuzaki, good night. Actually, no, bad night, I don’t like you, I hope you have a bad night.”  
  
“Very well. If you do need help, mentally or otherwise, the task force has asked that I offer psychiatric counseling on behalf of the investigation. I understand my treatment of you has been…inhumane?”

“Is this your sick idea of an apology?”  
  
“No…did you want one?”  
  
“I deserve one.” she grumbled curling back into bed sighing, “But no, I only want one thing from you, Ryuga.”  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“Light back.”  
  
“His involvement with you is entirely up to him. I cannot-”

“Is it just you?”  
  
“…yes.”  
  
“Like only you? No one else on the line?”  
  
“…Watari, I have it from here.”  
  
A soft click.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“…I’m sure you know this, but Light said he left me for you.”  
  
“I’m aware.”  
  
She stared at her wall, it was weirdly comforting hearing his voice after being around him so often. It was true, she did think of him as a friend to some extent. At the end of the day, he was still gross and weird, but he did sit through seven straight hours of dramas with her while Light studied and he was rather skilled in nail painting. During their down time at the task force, they had their sparse moments where she wasn’t almost at his throat in aggravation.  
  
“Was he telling the truth?”  
  
“I don’t think this beneficial conversation for y-”  
  
“He ignores me. I just want to know…I promise I won’t get mad, okay?”  
  
Phone static.  
  
“I’ll send you one of those cakes from that one shop I modeled with. Didn't you really like the strawberry one, with the super shiny glaze icing stuff. I forget the name, but I can hand deliver it to the task force for you.”  
  
“You can leave it at the door.”  
  
He hasn’t changed. However, it’s only been a few months since she left.  
  
“You think I’m stupid, but you’re really dumb too you know.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah. You’re a whore for cake. If they took you into confinement they wouldn’t need to do all the awful stuff you did to me. They’d just need to bribe you with sweets.”  
  
“Yes, you’re right.”  
  
“Dumb, huh?”  
  
“Or a strange way to acquire dessert.”  
  
Sleep pressed on her, “Can you answer my question now?”  
  
“Very well…are you sure?”  
  
A somber laugh left behind a yawn, “The fact that you’re putting it off tells me enough. I doubt Light actually likes you, but its pretty clear that you _are_ on _that_ side of the fence.”  
  
“Why don’t you think he likes men? Have you ever asked?”  
  
"What?! No!”  
  
“Do you think he doesn’t have genuine emotion for me because he’s Kira?”  
  
She rolled her eyes, _‘If only you knew, you pervert.’  
_  
“No…I think I don’t want to think about him with someone else. He’s not Kira, but if he being so in order to make you and him to make sense…then sure. I think I’d rather that.”  
  
“You’d rather him be a murderer than love a man?”  
  
“I’d rather that than he love someone other than me. I don’t care who, boy or girl, it doesn’t matter. I’d hate whoever it is. Because…” her eyes weren’t watching the walls anymore, “…I just love him so much, Ryuga.”  
  
“I can see that.”  
  
“Solve the case, okay? Maybe after…I don’ know…we could watch TV again. If I don’t hate you for not…return…ret…returning…”  
  
She fell asleep. She didn’t hear the gentle “Goodnight.” or know that someone was watching her with authentic care until she woke up.  
  
Now naked and curled against another Hideki Ryuga, she combs over their exchange with a golden lock between her fingers getting high on a cologne that tastes sweeter on different skin. Realization grips her stomach, he sounded so morose. In her high school career she was the go-to for post breakup chats. The tone is the same for everyone, the world’s greatest detective is no different. Biting her lip she swallows back her glee, _‘They did something. I won’t wonder what, but they did enough to get to a breakup phase. Perhaps this is signaling the end of Light’s need of L? That there could be the possibility that he’ll be back in my arms soon enough?’_ she glances at the phone illuminated profile of the sufficient replacement, _‘Soon enough cannot come fast enough.’_  
  
They showered together, that was new for their exchanges. Hideki even washed her hair and had enough makeup leftover from other girls in his bathroom for Misa to put herself together. Sitting on the floor of his lavish, echoing bathroom her phone buzzes violently beside her. Poking the right buttons she has it on speaker, “Hello?”  
  
“Misa-Misa!” Mogi’s frantic tone booms causing her to jump, smearing her mascara.  
  
“Calm down, Mochi! I’m going to ruin my-”  
  
“Where are you?!”  
  
“…a place.”  
  
“Misa!” he warns.  
  
She scrambles to dress herself while speaking, “I’m hanging out with a friend, sheesh! What’s the big deal?”  
  
“It’s Friday?! You have your second appearance on Tonight With Miss Takada?! Please tell me you remembered but I doubt you do since you aren’t here!”  
  
“Oh…that’s _this_ Friday?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Ooopsies! Sorry Mochi! I’ll be right there!” she darts to the front door, not even addressing a very confused pop star halfway pouring a pair of coffees, “Can we, I dunno, re-arrange the schedule?”  
  
“Re-arrange the schedule?” he talks like a knife is in his gut, “Where are you?”  
  
“You gotta swear not to tell!” she hisses in the elevator.  
  
“Misa, I’m your manager.”  
  
“You’re also L’s minion.”  
  
“…but right now I am your manager. Please tell me where you are.”  
  
“Hideki Ryuga’s apartment…” she squeaks.  
  
“You’re _with_ L?!”  
  
“Oh, _gross_ , _no_! The _other_ one, Mochi! The _hot_ one!”  
  
“I-I see.Where is his apartment located?”  
  
“Like…twenty minutes from the NHN building?”  
  
He lets out a frustrated groan.  
  
“I’m so sorry. I’ll be there as soon as I can!”  
  
She hangs up, leaving Mogi in the bustling hallway of crew members and television personalities. The man in charge of programming strides down the toiling sea of broadcast chaos in tandem with the dreaded question of, “Where’s Miss Amane?”  
  
The answer was not the ideal one. However, they are prepared for this sort of mishap. In a smooth manner, the man calmly explains that they can easily rearrange the show scheduling. Turning away from Mogi an index finger presses to the man’s ear, he evenly barks, “Amane’s stuck in traffic. Have someone downstairs ready for her to go immediately into hair and makeup, be sure we have some fruit for her- models, you know how they are. Put the closing act first, break for news, have our closing interview next, break for news then we’ll have Amane’s debut single performance, break then wrap out with Takada’s highlight spot ending on Amane’s interview with the big announcement.”  
  
“Big announcement?” Mogi inquires, “Was that not her single?”  
  
The man crudely cackles, “Not at all. This news is so fresh, she doesn’t even know.”  
  
“Neither does her manager.” he pleasantly smiles in a manner than implies potential discomfort if more information is not given.  
  
It doesn’t go unnoticed. He straightens his tie as he motions for Mogi to follow as he checks in on the new plan, “Look, I promise this is not anything of poor taste for Miss Amane, sir. But this is meant to garner big ratings and views for Miss Takada’s show, so what I am to tell you should remain undisclosed until it is made public, understood?”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“Good.” he claps his hands at a wardrobe assistant, “Lower the skirt, that is way too…you know. We already have Misa. Enough appeal for the night there.” he flashes a practiced grin at the worker, “Thank you, superstar!” he spins to Mogi, “She’s going to be the face of Kira! Congrats sir, you’re going to be a very busy man after tonight.” his fingers coax imaginary money, “Very busy, indeed.”  
  
“Kira asked this?” Mogi demands.  
  
“Of course. We’ve been in contact for about two weeks now. He needs a voice, who better than Japan’s Angel? She’s quite the choice, but when you think about it, not a bad one. Misa’s easily digestible and will give Kira a soft edge. It makes sense, it's certainly make headlines.”  
  
"Does she know?"  
  
“Absolutely not! We want an honest reaction. Now if you excuse me… Yamamoto that is not the commercial lineup we discussed! Yotsuba booked six slots, not four!”

Backing into a green room, Mogi dials up the task force. The group has been in disagreement after disagreement, L issued another break for people to ‘gather their emotions’ leaving him to take the brunt of the work which means he is typically the one to answer.  
  
“Yes?” the signature deadpan voice asks.  
  
“I’ve got news on Amane. She’s going to be be announced as the face of Kira on tonight’s show.”  
  
“Was this ordered by Kira?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Interesting. What is Misa’s opinion on this?”  
  
“She doesn’t know.”  
  
“I can tell. She’s currently…in the middle of the road…?”  
  
“On her way here, she was at a friend’s place.”  
  
“Sources say she is a little more than friends with Hideki Ryuga.”

“Was I the only one who didn’t know?”  
  
“Aside the point. This must be very sensitive information, Mogi. Aiber hasn’t mentioned it in his reports. How were you informed?”  
  
“By the floor producer? I don’t know the production roles very well, but he's in charge of the newscast running. He only told me because I’m her manager-”  
  
“And because you were trusted to not disclose this to anyone else.” the even words of the producer spill into the room, his hand extends for the phone, “I’m going to have to ask you to be escorted to on site holding until the program is completed this evening. Manager or not, I will not tolerate blatant disrespect in this manner.” he snatches the device from Mogi, “If this is Sakura TV, you bet there will be a pricey lawsuit on someone’s desk in the morning for this.”  
  
“This is Asahi.” the detective curtly answers assuming one of his disguise voices, “I’m Misa’s publicist. Who am I speaking to?”  
  
“Hello Asahi, I’m Hasegawa, the coordinating producer for NHN’s Tonight With Miss Takada, it’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I see I've misinterpreted the situation."

"Indeed you have."

"If you need any additional information for Miss Amane’s announcement this evening, I kindly ask you to wait until after our programming, we can work out a scheduling time since our next step was going to be giving Misa a segment on NHN.”  
  
“Is that so? Why not disclose this information in advance? We’ve had her booked for a week now. This seems unprofessional.”  
  
“Apologies, Mr. Asahi, we only got word an hour ago. We were under the impression the role would go to Miss Takada. However, we are in no position to go against Kira’s wishes.”  
  
“Kira? Is this a joke?”  
  
“Not at all, sir. This is the true Kira we are in contact with. It’s been verified in a way that I cannot disclose because I am not permitted that clearance. However, I would not find it wise for you to advise Misa to reject the honor. Her career may see an abrupt end, if you catch my drift.”  
  
"Are you threatening my client?"  
  
"Not at all! As I said, it's Kira we're dealing with here, I cannot promise anyone's safety."  
  
“Has Kira indicated as such?”  
  
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if such a tragedy occurred.”  
  
“What is the plan then?”  
  
“Miss Takada will announce the role at the end of the show, we assume Misa will accept because of her open support of Kira. A rejection plan has not been anticipated.”  
  
“I see…well this is indeed, big news, Mr. Hasegawa.”  
  
“Yes! It’ll bode nothing but good fortune for your agency, I'm sure! Everyone will want Misa! We’ll get in touch tomorrow to negotiate her contract with NHN, if that’s alright?”  
  
“I look forward to it.”

“Very good! Well. Good evening, Mr. Asahi.”  
  
“You as well, Mr. Hasegawa.”  
  
Hasegawa passes the phone back to Mogi, “Deepest apologies. I know you’re new so I’l let it slide. Next time, ask before seeming like you’re one of Demegawa’s pathetic moles.”  
  
“Thank you for understanding my mistake, Mr. Hasegawa. Let’s have a good broadcast!” Assuming the boisterous mask of enthusiastic manager Mogi props two thumbs up as additional encouragement, Mr. Hasegawa accepting the display to return to his fluidly scrambling set.  
  
His attention is swiftly consumed by a serenely infuriated leading hostess holding a crumpled itinerary in her hand. Her tendons threatens silky skin, one finger beckons him, “Hasegawa. Is this announcement a mistake?”  
  
“No.” he purrs, “And you’re going to act as if you don’t know until cameras are rolling, Miss Takada.”  
  
“Does she know?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Ruby lips press into a fine line as she sinks into the dressing room. Addressing her reflection she fixes up nonexistent creases of her dark mahogany dress of overpriced velvet over nude tights a few shades darker than her natural hue. The makeup artist carefully dots the last of blush to her cheeks. Kiyomi stays painfully still while mulling her choices. She could whip out her phone, a quick call would demand information of this less than preferable choice of Kira’s behalf. Then again, she is one half of that whole, as acting goddess does that not come with the jurisdiction to move without Mikami’s say so? Getting closer to Coil has been proving to be a likely prosperous endeavor. Both for Kira’s cause but also, the next woman his fingers frequent, Kiyomi is an excellent teacher of many things. Having Misa headline this could pose to dampen her agendas, she figured the role going to Misa would be sure as hers, it was apart of her plan to use that in order to get closer to Coil. Surely by her being Kira’s face, if he is connected to L, that would be bait enough for the task force to try to manipulate her. They would reach out and she would gladly accept. From there Kiyomi would have the inner workings of their silly group torn to ribbons by the time she was through with them. It was flawless!  
  
And it’s going down a dimwitted blond drain.  
 _  
‘Why, Mikami? Why her?’_ she mentally scolds, going through the motions of the show. It’s a fresh routine but one learnt easily enough. Her body works for her to entertain while she debates the options, _‘If it is me, then we are closer to L! I told you this! I thought you agreed that this was a fortunate method to eliminating the greatest adversary for Kira. What good will Misa get us other than shallow support of Kira? Kira is not a celebrity, Kira is a god! Kira does not need this excess show to garner the masses! Kira needs a worthy goddess to be the face of justice, to frontline the revolution, not parade without cognitive function! She’s such a thoughtless, silly girl, not at all goddess material, surely not one worthy of being god’s voice. I could take matters into my own hands and claim the title for myself. Could that lead to my own death? Mikami only gave me one page of the notebook for emergency use only. We both have guns that can be fired into one another if it comes to strife. I don’t want to go against him. I agree with him and I enjoy partaking in divinity with him. However, this is a choice that stings. It is a slap in the face to my pride, my importance to Kira’s mission.’_  
  
The woman, no, the girl in question finally has graced NHN with her amiable presence. Clad in a surprisingly mature ensemble of a spaghetti strap white silk dress that flares near her knees, paired with tastefully stacked gold cross jewelry and matching earrings, she flutters onto the stage. Her golden hair is down lacking her childish pigtails, she’s absolutely glowing in the studio lights revealing the dress to be a very faded cream. Usually red lips are a modest mauve pink, and her contacts aren’t in today. Instead, she presents her natural brown eyes, which Kiyomi personally found prettier than the cosmetic lenses.  
  
“Thank you so much for having me again, Miss Takada!” she chirps into the microphone, “I'm excited to perform new song, _Saged Love_!”  
 _  
‘What does ‘saged’ mean?’_ Kiyomi dully wonders as she beams, supportively clapping, “Misa Amane, everyone! An NHN exclusive! Be sure to stay after her performance for a special interview!”  
  
The manager nods to the band behind Misa. They take cue to blast the studio with the beginning rifts. Swaying from foot to foot Misa closes her eyes, wets her mouth to coo out a long introduction note, dipping into the lyrics,  
  
 _“We just made the first mistake,  
I’ll have you back soon, darling  
You’ll be one with me, no longer the dreaded three  
That’s constant-ally-ruining my-  
Tongue!  
  
Oh…!”  
  
_Her voice pierces the room with a shockingly commanding presence. A frame previously seen as adolescent is womanly, draped in a mourning ivory while the stage effects trickle on. Man-made smoke seeps around her, the golden lighting gives the impression of a visiting heaven. _  
  
“Where did the passion go?  
It’s so haunted, broken, rare  
Lost under the ocean, consumed by a ghost, a ghost, a ghost  
Connected to you, of you, by  
You, you, you  
  
To cleanse this, to repent for anything I’ve done  
For that, I’ll wander to the woods  
Loosing footprints in the grass, digging hands past the earth to collect  
A cleaning tool, to protect me, to protect you,  
  
You, you, you, you  
Always smart, ready to use  
Anybody you choose  
But I found us, together in the dusty trees  
Still for a ghost you’ve chosen to leave, leave, leave  
  
Gone….!”  
  
_Tears grab her vision at that torn word, her voice trembles giving away how attached she is to her own work. Misa thinks of the night spent in Hideki’s lobby, the nights alone, the night Light left. It hurts to think that he may be watching, and if he is she wants Light to listen to this. Most importantly, nightmares aside, she wants Ryuzaki to hear this. She wants him to know how horridly his stupid investigation is paining the world, but also her. _  
  
“Without you, I cannot see with my own eyes  
Lacking you, it’s that ghost I despise  
It’s the smoky fingertips, the imaginary lips that drive,  
Drive, drive, drive!  
  
Shaking fingers into this match!  
  
Only for you, will I created a saged love  
Purifying the blood, soaking both our clothes!  
Without you, it worse than death  
And to rid a ghost, I’ll create a saged love!  
  
A saged love,  
A saged love,  
A Saged Love”  
  
_Ramping instrumentals allow her to dance in the rising mist. She’s an impossibly beautiful vision in a beige monochromic scheme pouring red hot emotions on stage. Not just Kiyomi, but the world, was hesitant to hear that Misa Amane, known for modeling and acting, was stepping into the music world. The expectant bubblegum pop was ready to be deflated, instead they are being delivered this waning, angelic, fast paced tune stealing from multiple genres. It is the hypothesized pop, but not in the expected package.  
  
Kiyomi and the average viewer wonders if Misa wrote this or if she paid someone. Surely it is the latter, she hasn't shown the competency to be this deep. _  
  
“Talk to me through ignorance alone  
I’ll be waiting in white smoke  
Hearing, watching how you’ve been undone  
And dine on a phantom body  
  
Gone, and clarified by our:  
  
Saged love,  
Saged love,  
Saged love!  
  
Oh…!  
My sweet love, calculating the depth of an apparition tomb  
I’ll make it so you can  
Please, trust in me once more  
I cannot! Continue without!  
  
A Saged love,  
Saged Love,  
Saged Love  
  
Clinging then disappear to the flames  
Lost in the smoke of  
the apparition gone  
Exorcised, loud!”  
  
_Breathing heavily Misa throws her arms up signaling the end of her debut. Sweat gathers her bangs to her forehead as she smiles at the camera giving a little wave. Impulsively she yells, “I love you!” as the studio audience roars in approval, mouthing _‘Light’_ as the producer twirls a hand summoning the commercials. 

A water bottle immediately appears beside the newborn pop star who humbly downs it in a few hearty swigs. It's damaging to be so vulnerable but also powerful. High on the adrenaline she barely hears the attendants ushering her to the seat at Kiyomi’s talkshow setup to wrap out the night. Hands blot her sweat, some offer her fruit while others fix up the minimal damage done to her makeup.  
  
Recovered, she fixates on the figure of the host poised in a paralleling chair. Her boring legs neatly crossed one atop the other with nude painted nails atop knees kept modest by lame pantyhose. Flashing an expression of genuine respect, as far as her budding musical career is concerned, Kiyomi speaks tenderly, “You performed well, Misa.”  
  
“Of course I did.” she snaps, “I’m a _professional_ , Kiyomi.”  
  
“Yes, that explains your tardiness.”  
  
“That was the traffic, don't be rude.”  
  
“Apologies.”  
  
“Live in five!” the director yells, “Four! Three! Two!”  
  
He points.  
  
As if having life slapped back into the both of them, the women perk up giving the implication of friendship. Waving at the camera Kiyomi goes through her customary greeting before yielding to her first question, “Misa, that was an incredible performance! I am extremely honored that you agreed to debut an amazing song here tonight. How does it feel to finally have it out?”  
  
“It feels great!” Misa bubbles, “I worked super hard on it, I’m happy that everyone in the studio tonight enjoyed it!”  
  
“The lyrics were beautiful, did you write them yourself or did you collaborate with a lyricist?”  
  
“I wrote them! As you know, I’ve been going through a lot of changes right now, and this was a therapeutic experience for me. I wrote it as a poem at first, then changed it from there but all of it’s my writing.”  
  
“Modeling, acting, now singer and songwriter. What an honor to have you guest tonight, Misa.”  
  
“It’s an honor to be here.”  
  
“I’m curious as to the meaning, was it about your ex-boyfriend, perhaps?”  
 _  
‘Kiyomi, you bitch.’_ Misa works to now sour her expression, “Yes. We aren’t so much as exes, but more on a break. You see, he’s very busy and while it was a messy agreement, we realized that it’s best to give him space to pursue his studies.”  
  
“How considerate of you.” Kiyomi hums, _‘Don’t be so modest, he dumped your dumbass because you weren’t smart enough for him. I’m sure he dated you out of sheer curiosity or out of cordial politeness. Light wouldn’t take you back in a million years.’_ She arranges herself ever so slightly, “Is that what you mean by ‘saged love’ in your song? Are you implying that something needs to be purified?”  
  
“Sort of.” she giggles, “It’s more a metaphor for us to purge any negatives in both our lives so we can later come back to one another in a pure way. I hope to find love with him, ideally, but I understand that with self-work that people change. I still love my ex, I don’t think I ever won’t, but I am also open to love past my own growth. The same goes for him too!”  
 _  
‘That’s surprisingly mature for you, Misa.’_ Kiyomi wickedly curses, _‘I see Light Yagami’s heartbreak has left you stronger, as it did me. Maybe…it would be interesting to see how responsibility would mold you. You are not worthy of a goddess title…but you could pose an acceptable decoy.’  
_  
“What about you, Kiyomi?” Misa gleams, “Did the song speak to you in any way?”  
  
“Of course, it's very relatable. Even outside of a romantic connection, I think the idea of a ‘saged love’ can be applied to any listener. You’ve made an amazing track, I cannot wait to see what success it brings.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“You know what else I cannot wait from you, Misa?”  
  
“What’s that?” she perks up, a bit taken off by the feline presentation of the question.  
  
“Well, when I say this, I mean it in all seriousness.” ,addressing the camera she speaks firmly, “Kira contacted NHN a few weeks ago wishing for our new station to be the pillar of not only news, but in how Kira’s will shall be delivered. Today Kira chose a spokesperson to relay the messages meant to be heard by millions.” ,cool eyes shift back to wide, worried ones, “Kira…has elected you to be that voice, Miss Amane. Congratulations.”  
  
Fear cripples her, celebrity conditioning steals a very believable, “Oh! This…is an amazing opportunity. Thank you, Kira! Thank you for choosing me. I hope to help others the way you’ve helped me.”  
  
“How has Kira already helped you?” Kiyomi inquires, grating on Misa’s nerves.  
  
 _‘Please, stop taking so this can end and I can leave. I don’t trust this, I don’t trust this at all!’_ Misa wants to scream, but maintains the airhead ease, “Oh, well, as some may know, I’ve mentioned that my family was killed in a break-in. Justice wasn’t going to come for them, but when our system failed, Kira provided the punishment the monster who took my parents from me. He gave me peace, he is true righteousness. Kira made me believe in a possible world where we can exist without terrible people like that.”  
  
“Now you can.” Kiyomi places a hand atop Misa’s, both women force the touch to remain, “Together, all of us can work to build a world where we can all live happily."  
  
"Yes!" Misa grins, "I cannot wait!"  
  
"Thank you for watching Tonight With Miss Takada, everyone watching, please have a good night. We’ll see you tomorrow!”  
  
The cameras cut.  
  
Swallowing back compliant after question after congratulatory statement she somehow wills the power to not only be upright but appear perfectly normal. The swelling dread of whats to come collapses upon her filling up with each hand shake and bow and picture. Finally, after what seems to be eternity Misa darts to the bathroom. For the first time she doesn't have to fake the noises filling up the toilet bowl. Nerves wrenched what little inhabited her stomach wilting her to the floor. The creaking of the door draws her attention to the fact that she forgot to lock it as well as Mogi darkening the frame. Tears immediately stream down her face as she holds herself, backing away from him, “Please…you have to believe me, Mochi, I-I didn’t-”

“I know.”  
  
“Please don’t make me go back!” she sobs, completely breaking down. If Mikami finds out she’s been taken by L again she’s surely doomed to die and worse, sentenced to not see Light again, “P-please don’t make me go back! I don’t know who Kira is I swear! I swear I don’t! P-ple-”  
  
He shuts the door behind him, locking it. Running the sink first, Mogi takes a seat on the floor in front of her. He tenderly lifts his hands in surrender, “It’s okay, Misa.”  
  
“No it’s not!” she wails, “L’s going-”  
  
“To do nothing.” he pulls out his phone already in the middle of a call, “Here.”  
  
Shivering hands take the device, “Ryuzaki?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Watering eyes lock on Mogi, warbling lips struggle to speak clearly, “Are you going to make Mogi take me back in custody? Am I going to-” ,remembrances of her detainment burst down additional tears, the hours upon hours upon days, weeks, months tied and bound and stripped of all humanity too much to even consider enduring once more.  
  
Hearing someone mourn so horrendously doesn’t make the detective regret his choices, but it doesn’t fill him with any sort of pride, “No, no you’re not going back into confinement.” ,their late night conversation rings in reminder, “I do believe now would be a good time for an apology?”  
  
“I don’t owe you _anything_ , you perv-”  
  
“From me to you, Misa.”  
  
The rage evaporates, “Oh.”  
  
“Will you work with me? To catch Kira?”  
  
She curls into herself, “Will I get to see Light?”  
  
“No, it is safest for everyone for us to maintain the appearance of you not being connected to the task force. We can discuss this further if I have your word to work with me, Misa.”  
  
Resting her forehead on her knees she deflates, _‘This seems to be the best option to stay alive. I doubt Light is in on this plan, if he were L would surely have Light on the phone to secure my loyalty. I wonder if he's under suspicion again...I've got to be sure to not direct them back to Light. I can probably keep both of us safe like this. I'm sure he'll understand my doing this, we can find someone better than Mikami to be Kira when this is over.’_  
  
“Yes. I’ll catch Kira with you, Ryuzaki.”  
  
“Excellent. Please let me know when you’ve calmed down, take your time. I need you to listen to me _very_ carefully…”

—-

Not once since coming back from visiting his family house has there ever been anything on the doorstep of the task force headquarters. The idea of mail being left was too domestic for the cold tower; but surely as he stands there as does a cutely packaged square box. It could pass as a booby trap from a cartoon if he didn’t know better.  
  
Light Yagami doesn’t know better.  
  
Stooping over the pastel pink cardboard swaddled in pretty pink and gold ribbon he reads an expertly calligraphed _‘To: Ryuzaki, From: Misa-Misa’_ on an adorable card. Not caring about the recipient’s privacy he unties the glossy placard flipping it over to see an additional message of _‘Let’s catch Kira again! Together!’_ in Misa’s penmanship with a little heart and star drawn on the corner.   
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” he grumbles, fighting the instinct to ball up the note and throw the boxed dessert at the door.

It is bad enough Mikami has chosen her to be the face of Kira. For the past two days all he's seen is Misa everywhere, it's driving him mad. Either her song is playing in stores or her face is painted on magazines, television screens or her name frontlines news updates, papers. If a company can type her name on it or slap her face on it, she's there. From a marketing standpoint, it isn't an awful move on Mikami's behalf for Kira's popularity has skyrocketed to a startling amount. Its odd how people will bow to Misa alone, but now she's some prophetic messiah projecting hymns to the masses. 

However, her popularity does not excuse a certain someone's blatant behavior.  
  
“Ryuzaki!” is what he practically snarls neatly stomping into the lounge.  
  
The man in question perched in front of his wall of screens. Owlish eyes peek over curved shoulders as he raises trace eyebrows, "Yes, Light?"  
  
Judging by the tone of the other's voice and their penchant of physically sorting out their conflicts, he braces for a possible dispute. Instead his enigmatic gaze fixates on the angrily presented gift, “Is this a joke or are you being passive aggressive or both?! Either way, it’s not funny!”  
  
“Oh. She did it.” the man murmurs, plucking the box from the other's grasp, “Thank you, Light.”  
  
L knew she delivered it three hours ago. He had to tell Watari to tell the attendant to not get the package from the front steps. Light hasn’t spoken to him outside of brief case related discussions since their fight over a week ago. They haven’t shared a bed in what’s seemed like years, he finds himself using elementary methods to get alternative attention. Never has he thought himself the type to stoop to such lows, but his team is in shambles, his investigation is hanging on by a thread and the promise to perhaps burying his pent up tantrums in his lover-suspect's body was all too enticing.   
  
Also the bed is cold without him. And he wasn't accustomed to sleeping in a tipped over armchair anymore.  
  
“Did Misa actually send that to you?” Light demands, a piqued hand at his hip.

“She did.” he unwraps the box, marveling at the promised prize.  
  
"What? Are you guys best friends now?"  
  
"I wouldn't say _best_ friends. That's a bit presumptuous." plucking a fork from a previous snack, he goes for his first bite with no luck.  
  
Light pulls the unfolded box out from under him, slamming the card in its place, “Let’s catch Kira again, together?” he reads, voice smudging the last word, “Are you this desperate?”  
  
“No.” Spindle fingers preen towards the lustrous cake slice, “Now. If you please...”  
  
“Absolutely not.” he lifts it out of reach, “Why are you working with Misa? Don’t you suspect her? Didn’t your precious experiment prove that?”  
  
“Yes. But given the current circumstances, she’s in the grey at minimum. Misa is the key to leading us to the Third Kira. If she sides with us, and we bring him to justice, this will in turn reveal the First Kira as well. Our case will be closed, freeing us all of this endless curse."  
  
"Why on earth is she even working with you?"  
  
"As additional motivation, since I now have more than enough evidence to convict her as the Second Kira, I’ve offered a pardon. She’s very taken to it, which additionally proves her guilt. Again, she makes it too easy, I sort of refuted her guilt out of sheer respect for my title."

"What does your title have to do with this?"  
  
"Would you want to admit that Misa Amane got the better of you, even in the slightest instance?"  
  
"...fair."

"Anyways, I’ve given her detailed instructions. I made it painfully clear, I think she’ll do well. Now, Light, I will not ask again. Give me the cake back, please.”  
  
“Alright.” he relaxes his wrist, allowing the dessert to plop on askew black locks, “Enjoy, catching Kira with the supposed Second Kira.” Suppressing a cackle he takes his usual seat, “I’ll be over here with my morals tracking the Third’s location using my real-time death method.”  
  
“A method that will only get you so far.” L growls, roughly shoving the pastry from his hair. He stands up to let out a surprised cry at the sensation of bare feet in confectionary litter, “Another stunt like this, you’ll be left to pursue your investigation outside of the lounge or my connections. Irregardless of our previous intimacy, I won’t have you disrespecting me, or desserts in such a manner.”  
  
Light rolls his eyes, “How much of that intimacy was authentic? Was it you giving Light Yagami a chance or were you exploiting my feelings to get closer to Kira?”  
  
No response. That annoys him. He whirls around to cut daggers into the man peeling off his jeans. Taken aback by the jeans being shoved to the mess on the man's feet, he too jumps upright, “Wh-what’re you-?!”  
  
“I need to bathe.”  
  
“Here?!”  
  
“No, but I don’t want to walk with cake on my foot.” he resumes cleaning, “Continue- you were wondering if I was fucking you or Kira?”  
  
Resisting the urge to massage his temples he grabs the lone napkin left by Watari with the row of sweets earlier, “You had this, idiot.”  
  
Kneeling before the other he slaps the balled up clothes from L’s hands, replacing nonchalant hands with languid strokes. Most of the cake is already cleaned off but he’s been aching for the proper moment to get closer to L again. He’s buried the knives in deep enough, it’s time to remove them one by one. He’d make the bastard work hard for his forgiveness, but this acted indignation can only go on for so long without actually driving all chances of the seduction to an end.  
  
“You don’t have to do that.”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
Wordlessly, L leans against the edge of one of the desks lining their section of the room, “…it was Kira at first.” he admits in a mutter.  
  
“You would fuck Kira?” ,he grabs the cardboard on the floor from the deposited cake. He knew he'd get some form of comment from Watari if he set it on the desk alone. So he puts the napkin on the container to then set it aside. He meets grey hues through his lashes knowing good and well what he looks like on his knees in this manner, “That’s unlike you, L.”  
  
“Remember, this is under the assumption of you being Kira.”  
  
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he takes too many moments to stand up.  
  
“…yes?” he could smell the cologne again. That paired with the whispers of Light’s hands on his foot ramps up his ample need for the one inches away, “I would’ve never considered it unless it were you.”  
  
“That’s not reassuring.”  
  
“It’s the truth.”  
  
“And all you said about…when this ends?”  
  
“Also true.”  
  
“Did you want Light or Kira for that?”  
  
He want so awfully to hold the side of that immaculately carved face. It still presents fading bruises from last week, “Light. At the core of it all, it’s you. It will always be you.”  
  
“Always be?”  
  
“No matter the…outcome, it will be you as Light Yagami, my equal, who I will long for on a mental, physical and unfortunately emotional level.”  
  
“Your actions certainly show otherwise.” he inches closer, “I can’t help how I feel for you. But I can help how much worse I make this for myself. I told you I needed space from you.”  
  
“But you stayed-”  
  
“Because you gave no other option! I’m out of our room but I may as well be back in there. You give me no space to breathe.”  
  
“Go home then.”  
  
“I can’t forfeit my mother and sister’s privacy like that. What you did previously was my father’s call, this is mine.”  
  
“I don’t look at the footage like-”  
  
“I don’t care. We aren’t arguing _my_ family's privacy, L!”  
  
Desire alone draws L closer to Light. They're breathing on one another again, “I wish I could leave you alone.”  
  
“Do you?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It'd mean you're innocent. But also, you make me want to do foolish things. I don’t like it.”  
  
“Neither do I.” ,he lovingly rests a hand against a sunken cheek. It thrills him to see L visibly tremor. He's enamored in how large eyes float shut as he strokes ashen skin, “I also don’t like this.”  
  
“This?”  
  
“These codes we are speaking when it’s obvious what we want.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“This.”  
  
Light darts forward, using the hold on the man's face to jerk him against his chest to crush their lips together in a feverish explosion of pent up complications. Their tongues lurk inside the opposite mouth, heated groans hiss out as they strangle one another in the most perfect way possible. He meant for it to be a taunting kiss, not to ravage the exposed torso under his hold or to grasp the ass teasing his patience under thin boxer briefs. An impossible hunger demands sex; to hatefully fuck L into the desks, on the floor, for all of the cameras watching them. Twitching fingers ache to tangle in an inky trap, pin his head to the ground or against his throbbing cock, to draw not only a degraded apology but his orgasm.  
 _  
‘I want to hate fuck you so distastefully, that you’ll confuse it with passion. That you’ll think it’s some dysfunctional proclamation of love. I want to punch you, I want to slap you, I want to throw myself into you until I never want to cum again.’_ He’s shivering as he changes his hold to gather L into his arms, realizing how intensely he missed him. It’s startling to once more feel how marvelously they fit together. It’s shameful how aptly he melts for the touches dancing across his body, _‘I want to destroy you. I want to make you mine and mine alone. I want you to give up already so we can have the world, L. Can’t you see how perfect we’d be, how glorious a place we could manicure? If only you were smarter. If only you would let go. In time you will, I can see the seams testing your limits. Time will wear you down to your knees. From there I’ll crush you into the ground, drag you back up to full height, where we can rule divinely. I can make you a god, but you refuse, wanting to be a weak man.’_  
  
Tearing their bodies apart when L’s teeth graze his neck it’s his turn to keep the other an arm’s length away. He knows that if it continued past that they would be naked in a matter of minutes, he relies on the game lying ahead to measure L's abjection. Catching his breath he cannot help but grin at the anticipated wetness at the man’s front. They are both painfully pent up, but this is the pursuit. He’s decided as much.  
  
“I’m sorry. I...that got out of hand.”  
  
“I don't mind continuing...” L mumbles behind a thumbnail.  
  
Making his breathing more ragged he steps away, as if hurt by the notion, “I think we need more time to…clear our heads."  
 _  
‘No. My head is clear, so is yours. You cry pretendedly, or so I assume. Maybe love would do this to you, it’s doing the same to me-’_ ,he wants to disappear, take back what is public only to himself, _‘This isn't love. It is infatuation, obsession. This is the illusion of love at best. I cannot love you or anyone for that matter. I'm simply...unable.’_  
  
"Don’t you agree?” Light concludes, his expression dancing between the lulling killer and one the detective truly lusts for. _  
_  
“Agreed.” L starts his journey out, “Oh, I meant to say this earlier, but…”  
  
“I know."  
  
“Allow me to anyway."  
  
"Alright."  
  
He gifts him a rare smile, like the one Light saw against his chest lost in their private space- the same one that completely wrecks his internal guard, “Thank you, Light. For all of your work.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
L leaves, Light stares at the pile of cake ridden clothes. He wants to gather it, press his face into the fabric to have the aroma of his lover flooding his senses again. Instead he opts to calmly take a seat as he would in a round of chess, ready to make the next checkmate. Unknowingly to either player, the real check had been made hours ago when a laptop meant to be hacked was stolen. It now anxiously rides in the middle of a public bus on its way to a train station.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misa and L, the real power couple of Death Note that would probably result in the end of the world, if Light Yagami has anything to say about it. 
> 
> High key living for how the gang somehow got back together-ish, low key really feeling those Sad Misa hours, really have no idea how half of this even HAPPENED it just did but honestly, loving it. I can't believe I wrote a fake song for Misa Amane in fucking 2020.
> 
> I also just really love the visual of Misa in this pretty, slinky white dress with stacked gold jewelry with the fog machine singing a banger about sorta wanting to kill L for Light, it's a vibe and if you disagree you can get da fuck outta here ya fucking prep!
> 
> Still debating on what the task force boys are doing. Mogi is obviously here, but I feel like everyone else kinda had a secret meeting while getting coffee and was like 'Ya so L was mega stinky, we are over that in like 40 minutes because we men and toxic pee-pee masculinity but like...let's pretend to still be salty so we can get a vacation. The chief is getting grayer by the minute and as much as we stan a silver fox, Mrs. Yagami has started sending anonymous tips about bombs in the building to get some sweet loving time at home SO. Maybe if we fighty-fight Gremlin Man will give us a forced vacation.' 
> 
> And it worked, and L is sorta glad because his BF is fake angy at him when really he wanna put it in real bad because scraggle cake man using death notebook is super kawaii, but not as kawaii as them both being death gods, Light thinks, sadly. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry for these my immortal references. Don't flame me.
> 
> Or do. The comments went silent and now I am the big sad. But the challenge of finishing this thing before I forget a semblance of an intelligent plot line gets me up in the morning, yee yee!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wammy crazy, jammy flashbacks baby (but no jam, that's the yucky gross) and the gay bois are getting gayer and a little nicer. Misa might be making friendship bracelets. We shall see.

The battle between Near and this Light Yagami was placing the young prodigy’s mental state in a chaotic place. He had stared at the high schooler eat and not eat, study and not study, dress and undress, leave and return so many times that he could act out all of the motions like a play if someone so asked. When he closed his eyes it was the technological phantom going about mundane tasks floating behind his eyes, not fabricated realities or the preferred gratifying blackness. There has been no clear connection of the chips to the deaths; but it still digs into his intuition irregardless of the proof given. Additionally, he noticed that prior to the snacks Light Yagami never scribbled in his textbooks until afterwards. But, from he perspectives of the cameras, it isn’t evident of if the surfaces being written on are 'suspicious paper' or not. Nonetheless, these were multiple behaviors deviating from a routine that would otherwise be uninterrupted especially in a time heavily pressured due to impending examinations.  
  
He concludes that the best way to disclose his findings to L are of the following:  
  
1\. To mention the chips as a means of odd behavior, having it be noted in case it relays to a later or already existing clue. For all Near knows this could be the last piece of a puzzle best not leave it out.  
  
2\. That the textbook, _‘Big Dipper English Expression’_ needs to be analyzed, specifically the upper corners of the pages. Upon additional research of the text, it is indeed a workbook, so Light writing in it isn’t entirely out of the question but, it is highly unlikely that there are any fill-in-the-blanks on page corners or margins as watched on the footage.  
  
3\. Should the margins and corners be vacant, that certainly raises the questions of, _‘Was there paper layered there? Where did it go? Is there any imprints on the paper that could be taken via a rubbing?’_  
  
To test the rubbing theory, Near took a book of similar size and tested it. Depending on the writing apparatus, in this case Light was using a pen, there is a chance of some sort of indentation to say the least. Unless the paper he’s writing on atop the book’s pages is particularly thick, which is doubtful.  
  
Finally satisfied that he has something worthy of discussion for L, Near woke up early this morning. He beat the sun which meant a Mello-lacking breakfast, who often woke up by nine at the earliest. It also is indicative of his choice of cereal, given some insomniac hasn’t eaten the last bowl. Upon inspection of the panty, there was no such evidence. The food is adored while paging through a discarded magazine savoring each mouthful as well as the silence. Sipping on juice to top off the oat and milk flavored soup of the morning, his belly feels comfortably satisfied signaling time to get to work. However, the sun is rising and no one’s in the gardens yet.  
  
Near opts for a barefoot stroll, enjoying the coolness of morning dew between his toes. His lungs drink in long drags of crisp air intermingling with natural aromas only these breaking hours can give. Often times he forgets about the times not spent laboring in front of screens; having time without slaving about seemingly mundane behaviors is immensely refreshing. He’s excited to see if his observations are of use, but also, thankful for a budding break of the arduous Kira Case. It isn’t pride that allows his assumption that he’ll be a consultant of matters for awhile, it was Roger pulling all of Near’s extra work asking him to pour his attention to the case and only the case. Even the average schoolwork has disappeared from the schedule.   
  
It did not help his standing with the other children. They already kind of hated him and the unannounced specialized treatment worsened the adversity. One odd variable that never sat right is Mello’s abrupt acceptance. The emotional blowup aside, no additional conflicts were thrown his way, not even the petty trivialities of their daily spats. He almost misses it.  
  
 _Almost_.  
  
The walk outside ends, but the one inside begins. He expertly weaves between the judgmental stares down other’s noses while feet softly dry on polished wood and the spare long running rug. A few exchange some words of distaste under their breathes, Near is close to asking them to speak up with their opinions. He won’t tell on them, in all truthfulness he’d like to know. Perhaps they would be more open or less vicious with apparent honesty. Then again, he isn’t overly concerned with the trivialities of social behavior. Using the key given to him by Roger, he unlocks the study. Closing the door there is an established sense of disturbance. His gaze shifts about, landing on the desk vacant of the signature laptop with the desktop visibly destroyed. Alarmed, he bolts to the scene of the crime, careful to leave it untouched as he surveys the angry gashes on the screen and deep dents on the metal tower.  
  
He finds Roger downstairs with the little kids, a small redheaded child in his arms as he speaks with one of the nurses in a gentle, happy tone. Near thinks it a little funny that he’s about to completely wreck this comfortable domestic morning.  
  
“Roger. Your laptop is gone.”  
  
“I-I’m…pardon me.” he passes the child to the nurse, “Come again?”  
  
“And your computer. It’s destroyed. I need to send an email to L, can you find me another secure line? I doubt there’s any saving the desktop.”  
  
“This’d better not be your idea of a joke, Near.” Roger marches out of the room, Near trailing after him in a deadened _‘I told you so’_ ,when he threw open the door to see the exact scene described minutes ago. “This is…”  
  
“I bet it was Mello. He’s been weirdly quiet.”  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
Near shrugs, “Anyways, about the email…”  
  
“Not now. Stay in here, we’ll discuss that later, we have graver issues at hand!” he flips open his cellphone to instantaneously speak with Watari, “It’s me. We have a situation…”  
  
Within a half hour the Wammy’s House became a whirring powerhouse of rampant tracking of the two runaways. All of the older children were put to work while younger ones where given the day ‘off’ as official, scary men and women stride in and out of the mansion home. It evolves into a space no longer of efficient conditioning but of tense, rigid chaos feverishly hounding after two super genius teenagers with ignorant, immaculate power crammed in a worn out backpack.  
  
—-  
  
“I thought you said you didn’t have anxiety.” the apparent mastermind grumbles as they unwillingly take seats in a TSA security’s office with one too many watchful eyes baring down on the duo.  
  
“When I said that, I didn’t mean it literally. I was…bluffing?”  
  
“Bluffing? How is that-”  
  
“Stop talking.” one of the officers snaps.  
  
“-bluffing?”  
  
“I dunno, I just wanted to seem-”  
  
“Legally speaking, it is within both your interests if you keep quiet.”  
  
“-cool?”  
  
“Stammering and fucking getting the laptop taken by security isn’t cool, Matt.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mello. I didn’t know that Roger had such fucking weird shit rigged into the damn thing and that it'd set off every alarm in the goddamn building. But honestly, I’m not surprised.”  
  
“I bet stupid Near did it.”  
  
“I bet stupid L did it.”  
  
“I bet you’re so dumb, all it took to avoid this was turning it off.”  
  
“Wow you’re…” inspired eyes lock onto a captor, “Yo, can I-”  
  
“Absolutely not.” a guard growls, “Can you two _please_ , shut up? You have no idea how massively-”  
  
“We are very aware of how fucked we are.” Mello snaps, “And being silent won’t help shit. If you don’t like our discussions you can leave.”  
  
“Excuse your language.” Guard One threatens.  
  
“…he does kind of have a point.” Guard Two mutters, “We can lock the door and stand outside.”  
  
“We aren’t taking their suggestions.” Guard Three exhales.  
  
“They certainly aren’t taking ours-”  
  
“And we won’t be.” Mello grins horridly, “We’ll talk all we please. We won’t be going to court, so you can’t use our conversations against us.”  
  
“Pardon?” One’s brow raises.  
  
“We’re above the law.” he reclines into his seat, “We’re smarter than the law. Honestly, if humanity was smart, which it isn’t, it’d surrender law to us.”  
  
“Pompous brat.” Two rolls his eyes.  
  
“Do you want to know why we are above you lot?” the antagonizer juxtaposes his comfort, arms digging on his knees, “Curious as to where I get my arrogance?”  
  
“Not really.” Three replies.  
  
“Too bad. Maybe you’d have some closure.”  
  
Swinging into the theatrics of a backup plan best left as that, backup, Mello kicks up his boot, ramming it onto the desk between guards Two and Three. A black smoke immediately trickles out. Matt scrambles back with pretending wide eyes knowing the gas to be harmless, while the security pulls their weapons.   
  
“What is that?!” One barks then starts to cough, a hand pressing to her chest, “Holy shit, what _is_ that?”  
  
“A new chemical, made by me. Don’t breathe too much.” Mello toes off his boot, kicking it up above the guards’ heads causing them to scatter.  
  
He takes the planned seconds of bedlam to slide under the table, stealing a laptop that he spied when they were escorted in. It wasn’t apart of the plan to get caught, but this may actually fall in their favor if all goes decently. Making silent contact with Matt, they exchange glances with enough information to pass as a fifteen minute conversation. They always had a strange connection, one that transpired words. He holds a hand to his mouth to further sell the mystery smoke, stomping a second boot on the desktop. More fumes emit, tripling the fear of their watchers leaping back from the toiling, now unfurling from the second shoe flying in their direction.  
  
Opting to abandon their post, Two makes a path of wreckage to get to the door. Matt lurches forward, easily grabbing the walkie hitched to the man’s chest. With enough force he snaps it from the holster and embarks in a rough entanglement with Three and One for theirs. While the brawl unfolds, Mello rummages for needed tools. He steals a duffle bag with what looks to be overnight items from some TSA employee, stuffing the laptop inside. Finding a box cutter in a drawer he pockets it then zips the bag, slinging it over his chest. Grabbing the rolling chair beside him, he hoists it over his head, “Matt!” he yells in warning before throwing it at the entanglement of guards.  
  
The boy ducks in time with the furniture crashing into the other’s faces.  
  
Hopping over the barrier, Mello joins Matt, the two hating their disordered battle with the locked latch. They finally swing open the door as the jumbling of security toils over one another in vain to catch up only to get thirty pounds of cheap cedar wood snapping off Three’s outstretched middle finger. Wincing at the sight, the duo darts down the hallway deep in the bowels of the Gatwick Airport.  
  
On their way to their detainment they caught glimpse of the room holding their contraband. Arriving to the location, they see it to be occupied by two individuals, one in ornately decorated military garb and the other in airport uniform. Shrugging the bag to a Matt kneeling beside the door, Mello shoots him a knowing grin as he innocently raps on the small window viewing inside. Waving at the startled expressions of the people inside, he darts off. As expected, they bolt out, paying no attention to the teenager kneeling in plain sight.  
  
Idiots.  
  
Allowing Mello to embark on the goose chase of his life, Matt hoists their confiscated backpacks onto his torso unloading the second stolen laptop from the duffle bag. Snapping it open, he easily gains access to see a flashing red battery life. Walloping his fists on the desktop in aggravation, he opts to work with what little time available. Opening Roger’s computer, his fingers tremble as he wracks his mind for the proper codes to substitute and re-write. It’s heavily encrypted, which was his problem with it that led to the stealing. But on the bus ride he was working on his own personal device to quickly build a program to hopefully break down all that invisibly blocks entry. Ransacking his own backpack he produces his own technology onto the desk, sweat lining his brow as he prays that the right codes were cracked to allow a transfer.  
  
Unfortunately no, however they did permit access to Roger's stolen device, C-1, he's nicknamed it. Finally at the home screen he fights the activating alarms to eliminate them, a pop-up call from Watari instantaneously flashing on the screen, shutting down all of his work. Panicking, he reaches for the nearest object to cover the built-in camera. He was hoping for paper but his hand found a stapler and his adrenaline clapped it against the portal, splitting it more than needed leading a nasty sprawling spidery leg down the screen. Tapping the mute on, he watches his genius work start ripping apart C-1, sending it to the security’s computer. A crackling coded voice demands him to stop while additional backup pops into the server working to undo all that Matt has done. Cursing under his breath he snaps in a remote hotspot server to his device, lovingly named Britney Spears, holding his breath as he severs the connection from C-1, linking it to his self-created internet.  
  
That stops the secondary hacking war, but only for a moment. Britney Speaks starts pinging in violation. Gritting his teeth he works to heavily encrypt Britney's server, tossing up viruses and firewalls, all in vain for the dreaded initial of ‘L’ overtakes Ms. Spear's screen.  
  
“Mello.” a human voice evenly warns, Matt has only heard the synthetic tone of the famous detective, it is strange to hear his true voice, it’s alien to have the auditory mask shed, “Whatever you’re doing, whatever the reason I assure you there are better options. Please, stop this. Let’s discuss-”  
  
Shutting the message closed he abruptly raises Britney Spears above his head, slamming her into the linoleum tile, cringing at the crushing of his years of hard work, saved pictures and most devastatingly, hundreds of dollars of torrented games as well as hours of porn. Switching back to the other laptops he severs the internet connection, turns off the stolen security computer, now dubbed Bertha, and puts the lady in his backpack. Roger’s device, C-1, is snapped over his knee then goes into the duffle bag and he pokes his head out of the room to see no one coming down the hallway. Bolting out he starts aimlessly running about to find his partner.  
  
Wishing for this to go any other way than the path unfolded would be foolish, but praying would be even more idiotic. That is exactly what grips Matt at the literal standoff happening in one of the main isles of the airport. He isn’t sure where the guns came from, but that is the least of his problems; how they will theoretically leave is most concerning. Staying in the outliers he evaluates the situation at hand with one armed Mello packing a gun in each hand, both he assumes is loaded. Not only this but there is roughly nineteen guards, officers and other personnel also holding weapons.  
  
Due to apprehension, the pair got past the line of standard security. Theoretically, they could board a plane if that somehow enters their favors. However, there are civilians, so anything too rash could be out of the question. Matt personally would rather there not be bloodshed but isn’t sold that Mello is not above such actions. Whichever choice he makes, it has to be quick due to the fact that he really needs to take a piss and would rather settle this sooner than later least his bladder say something of it.  
  
“We’ll ask once more!” the highest ranking looking official declares, “Put your weapons down! And place any others on the floor where we can see them!”  
  
“I’ll lower mine when you do!” Mello cooly answers.  
  
“As we said, you are not in a position of negotiation! Backup will be here shortly, lower your weapons!”  
  
“Lower yours!”  
  
“A count to five!”  
  
“I didn’t agree to-”  
  
“One!”  
  
Trepidation seeps into Matt.  
  
“Two!”  
  
His body aptly moves without consent, maneuvering one of the backpacks to his front so two sandwich his torso. Feet go one in front of the other in a quick race to tempt fate, hands raise as he shouts, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! It’s a bomb! It’s set for ten minutes!”  
  
The audience scatters like rats.  
  
The officials pale.  
  
“It’s got enough to blow this fucking place to a very large pothole.” he is very impressed by how lax his words are, “Now, we aren’t here for this wild of a time, gentlemen. This is all my fault, I really should’ve turned off the laptop, now things are messy. Deepest apologies, but we’ll be out of here if you let my friend and I on our way.”  
  
Mello’s eyes sparkle in delight and some other emotion Matt can’t pinpoint as he starts inching towards his compatriot. The one in charge cocks his gun, “Stay where you are!”  
  
“Not cool, man, you shoot, I blow.” Matt chides, “Let him come over to me. Mello, keep your hands up, let’s show them we don’t want to do anything crazy.”  
  
Mello meanders to his side. The aggravated resignation of the militia is comedic, but they were likely telling the truth of backup soon arriving. Time is extremely limited neither has the luxury of drawing out high risk bets. Raging eyes narrow as defeat in the form of half of their formatted staff disperse to evacuate the airport. He lessens his hold of his firearm, spitting out, “What are your conditions?”  
  
“About time you asked.” Matt smirks, “They’re pretty easy. We are going to take a plane out of here via your personal escort from a ten foot radius. You’re not going to shoot or call additional backup when we’re up in the air. I have this entire area rigged with additional bombs-”  
  
“That’s a lie.”  
  
“Wanna bet? Something tells me you know who we are connected to, do you want to test those odds? You’d be better off quizzing your staff or raising their pay, they’re pretty cheap.” Matt shifts from one foot to the other, “These things are heavy as shit, they also have about seven minutes left before detonation. How about we chat while we walk, sound good?”  
  
“Very well.” the man nods to the others, they go.  
  
“Alright, it’s pretty simple stuff! We are going to take this flight over here. The walkway will be completely vacant while we board. Once boarded we will leave the disarmed bombs on the walkway. When the aircraft is securely en route and in air we’ll disable the remaining explosives which can be done remotely from my laptop. You have my word on that!” Matt shouts, strolling to a random airline fitting the profile of the plan, “Like I said, we aren’t here to cause harm, let us on our way and this’ll be a funny story in no time.”  
  
The highest ranking escort remains quiet as the duo enters the walkway, shutting the door behind them. Mello kicks the handle off, whipping his face to Matt as they briskly make a beeline down the ramp, “Matt. If we make it in one piece, I owe you the biggest blowjob of your life.”  
  
“Thanks, but we aren’t out of this yet.” they already hear the tampering of the door, “I imagine MI-5 is already here and will be barreling down that hallway any second.”  
  
Entering the plane, the pair works to close the aircraft door, locking themselves inside. Mello gives the door one last jostle confident it's sealed then begs the million-dollar inquiry, “Do either of us know how to fly a plane?”  
  
“No, but how hard could it be?”  
  
“Let’s hope it has gas.”  
  
“It’s not a car, moron.”  
  
The half-assed promise of dick sucking vacates any foreseeable future for Matt as they pile into the cockpit.  
  
“…you’ve got to be fucking…never mind.” Mello slips into one of two captain's chairs, his accomplice takes the second, “Can you block any radio signals? Or tracking for that matter? I imagine they’ll be tailing us from start to finish.”  
  
“Oh for sure, I can set up a scrambler pretty easily.” Matt pops open the stolen laptop, “I destroyed Roger's laptop by the way.”  
  
“You _what_?”  
  
“Snapped in half. Here.” he passes it, tensing as the function of driving the plane is figured out.  
  
“I’m driving!” Mello snaps, catching a glimpse at a very battered item before discarding it to the floor, “Holy shit dude, what the _actual_ fuck?”  
  
“L hacked it. I’m not taking any chances.”  
  
“ _L_?! L contacted…” color drains from his face as nerves take hold while helicopters dot the horizon of the airport rooftop, “Oh, fuck. I figured we’d be much farther than this when he got involved.”  
  
“This whole plan has been a shit show, you just had to steal-”  
  
“It’s _vital_ , Matt! Shut up! Okay…” he gulps a few breaths, just going for it, “Buckle your fucking seatbelt, we’re attempting liftoff.”  
  
“Attempting?!”  
  
“Have you flown a plane?! Do you want to do this?! I sure as hell don’t but this is… _shit_.” the helicopters hover above them as they position at the start of a runway, “Shit shit shit shit shit _shit_!”  
  
“Just do it dude!”  
  
“If we hit them we die.”  
  
“They’ll move. We’re still minors.”  
  
“How did this happen?” pulling back the closets knob, the engines rev, whirring in notification to start the ascension, "How the _hell_ did all this happen?!"  
  
“Well, I was going to use the broken laptop as a decoy to distract them long enough to let us get a getaway car or something. Since I was able to transfer a decent amount to the airport laptop, but the damn thing was dying so...gotta get a charger for that by the way. From there I was going to suggest we take a boat to Europe and use trains for the rest of our trip or be smarter about another airline attempt.” Matt swallows thickly, “Given the fact that you stole guns, had very important looking men pointing ones back at you, the bomb bluff seemed a strike of genius.”

 _'I was afraid I was going to watch you die.'_ is what he wants to add, _'What were you expecting me to do?! I was scared to loose you without at least kissing you once or telling you that I like you. It was instinct and devotion that made me react that way. Don't you get that I do the dumbest shit for you and only you? Is it not obvious? We should be glad we're alive.'_  
  
“It was. Until now. Okay Here goes.”  
  
He punches the knob, holding the wheel with one hand with such veracity that his knuckles turn white as the metal tube of death barrels down the runway.  
  
Gripping the same knob he pulls back, shocked at the smooth glide upward. It climbs higher starting to twist and rattle at the wind resistance. Baring his teeth he aims the wheel upwards willing the mechanical beast higher into the sky eyeing all of the needles pointing at various numbers finding one indicating altitude. The air is sickeningly quiet. Silently they scan the atmosphere for the looming aircrafts from before, seeing nothing but clouds dissolving around the glass and plane hood. The scanner doesn’t show any nearby visitors, for the moment, they are alone. Mello’s hands tremble as matching wide eyes meet across the pit to nervously erupt into laugher. They continue until a few tears start to pull at icy eyes. Concern creases his friend’s expressions as Matt leans closer in a delicate manner, afraid of tampering with the assumed fragility of flying.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“I stole a plane.”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“I flew a plane. I stole it and I flew it.”  
  
“Congrats. Now I’m worried about landing the damn thing.”  
  
“…do you get internet up here?”  
  
“I could?”  
  
“We could…research it.”  
  
“What? Google it?”  
  
“Yes! _Google it_! For the love of god, Matt, _Google it!_ ”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
He types away shocked at the lasting dying batter life of Bertha, establishing the security needed to do their little research mission. As the page pulls up the needed info the computer dies.

"Fuck..." Matt groans, "I wish I knew the future...I could've saved Britney..."

Mello didn't want to inquire about the fatality of the laptop.  
  
“How high can we cruise?”  
  
“…thirty something thousand feet?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Contemplation engulfs them as they stare at the vastness of the sky, squinting at an unforgiving sun piercing through a seamless blue.  
  
“There’s no going back from here.” Mello whispers.  
  
“You said we’d be risking it all.” Matt murmurs, “I’d say we’re off to a good start. I’d also say let’s get this info on the drives so we can ditch these bullshit laptops. I’m still not convinced L isn’t tracking our every move.”  
  
Matt leaves to explore for a charger. An exploration in the overhears bins reveals a quickly emptied flight. He rummages through carry on luggage finding a few laptop chargers. Meanwhile, the detective’s face flares in Mello’s memories, the weight of disappointment is painful. He was trusted enough to meet with him as L and now he’s here: exhibiting typical delinquent behavior or apparently succumbing to the mania of succession. A match for the laptop is discovered. As they unload seemingly endless files from what was transferred in the office he nervously strokes the end of a strand of hair, hating that it reminds him of Near, or Beyond. A lump presses into his throat, worry that L will see nothing more than another chapter of rotting rivalry unfolding once more seeping in a ta detrimental level. Impulsivity to contact L in order to assure him that this is more than assuming the title or his distain for his competition, that this is to solve the case, to rid the world of his idols’ greatest adversary. For it is painfully evident that he needs more than himself, and that the world is quickly crumbling under Kira’s iron grasp. It would only be a matter of months, years a best, until there is a point of irrefutable return. These theatrics are not solely for the pious assumptions many surely have jumped to. Recklessness is not to be viewed or gambled for something so low, but it is in an all or nothing bet for the fall of Kira to uphold L’s legacy. Certainly the detective is in the thick of a horrendous entanglement with the metaphoric walls of the world advisedly collapsing around to give birth for a claimed god. All of this is theory at best, but his gut told him that he could be the pawn that steals the game back from Kira. It’s clear that chance is at least on their side to some degree, perhaps it would continue to favor them enough to achieve the end result.  
  
It was like watching through someone else’s eyes as he reluctantly left his position from the controls to rifle through the on board snacks. He saw a projection of himself taking his first shot of minutely packaged tequila and hating it. Surely that wasn’t him sitting in that chair, watching files transfer after file transfer. And that was not the person he thought it was pummeling technology to a state identical to his own- unrecognizable.  
  
—-  
  
When Beyond Birthday left the Wammy’s House it was un-announced. It was quiet. Sometime on the thirteenth of April he did not inhabit the space any longer. No one is certain around the time he departed or if he took bus, taxi, or plane but one fact is certain; that he not only located L in under a month but, presented himself in person to do so.  
  
A had died a few months prior to his decision, how much that had a play in his choices is entirely known to the dearly deceased. But it is evident that the dangling mortality of perhaps never assuming the shadow prescribed to him aided in his lunacy. The extent of the infection was on display in his dark features that afternoon in Madrid.  
  
Often times when on a case, which he always was, the greatest detective would frequent local cafes, art museums or plainly go on strolls to mindlessly feed or watch birds. That instance was no different than the preceding; he hadn’t planned to go there out of anything more than thumbing through the concierge’s guidebook left in all of the hotel rooms. It was a local favorite as the pages said, specializing in custards and had high ratings for their black teas.  
  
He elected to go there for those reasons alone- nothing out of complexity.  
  
News of Beyond’s vacancy was a few months stale at the time, they were roughly seventeen years old, surely they couldn’t be filled up with enough malice or hardship to warrant a stern confrontation in a nonchalant crowd. That is how L viewed it, Beyond had alternative ideas as he strode up, starting to melt to a mirrored identity. His wavy black hair hung in his face as it always did, his clothes were a bit looser than usual, L couldn’t tell if it was from lack of nutrition or the fit at the time. While he had not adapted the trademark jeans and white crewneck, he did have black jeans and a light grey shirt with an opened collar and four buttons teasing his pointed chest bones.  
  
Tendons stretched the skin as he Cheshire-grinned at his prey, neatly curled behind a finished custard and cooling cup of tea. Beyond rudely put his dirty loafers on the table, which bothered L the most out of the act but it was the first thing noticed. When he went out, he never considered someone to approach him in this manner, much less someone he knew. Since this interaction he refused to roam without intense remuneration.  
  
There was not too extended a moment to speak ahead of Beyond’s lips drawling out a sacred, “Hello, _Lawliet_.” smearing the secret deliciously, “Nice to see you.”  
  
B took L's drink as he listened to a reply of, “What are the odds of us both being here?”  
  
“Very slim.” a knowing stare lurked behind consumer-grade 'fine china', “It’s not chance that I’m here. You’re too smart to even play dumb. Don’t belittle me like that.” he took the entire contents of the cup in a painful swig then shucked the glass to the table, leering forward, “It’s rude.”  
  
“Let’s forgo the banter if manners are at risk. What do you want?”  
  
“I want in. I want to be with you.”  
  
“I’m not…interested.”  
  
“I am.” he preened, “I am so _very_ interested. Who else could do it other than me? Imagine how efficient the world’s greatest will be with the second best by his side, hmm?” dangerous white teeth parted his lips, “And you know, I hold the _top_ spot in pleasuring you. You seen any whores since our last…”  
  
“No. And that’s not a selling point, or one at that matter. I’m not interested in a partner for my work. You’re in line for succession, you know this. You’re se-”  
  
“Ah- _ah_!” a finger wagged, “Second, yeah? You were going to say it, _second_!” he crowed, “Ohhh…how absolutely _disgraceful_! You disrespect him, so, so mean. You're mean, Lawli.” ,resting his chin atop cradled fingers he is nearly kissing the man opposite him, people looked, “A is dead. _You_ killed him. It’s just me. I am number one. I want to be apart of the system you hide in. Isn’t it fitting that the one in line to assume you knows the intimacies of your legacy?”  
  
“It’s not needed. It won’t happen for a long time.”  
  
“Won’t it?” he jeered, “I know where you’re staying, I know how to get into your room. Have you not seen me under your bed when you leave it to go take a piss or shit or have that glorified butler wipe your ass? There is no place on this earth you can hide from me. Not your safe houses, not an embassy, no hotel five star or a dive can keep me out. I’ll enter so I can kill you. And I'll replace you. Which is why I ask that we stop this foolish waiting game and just let me have it.”  
  
“My title?”  
  
“Yes. So smart.”  
  
“Take it, then. Kill me here and now.”  
  
“I’d rather win it from you.”  
  
“It looks like you’re begging. I’m not selling, so to speak.”  
  
“Pity.” he scowled, collapsing back into his seat, “Pity, pity, _pi-ty_.”  
  
The cashier was keeping an eye on them but, pedestrians ceased observation.  
  
“We could accomplish great things together, Lawliet.”  
  
“We already have. Did you forget our cases?”  
  
“Of course not! I enjoyed working in your stead in Chile. It was fun! What we did in our downtime was even _better_. Wouldn’t you want that all the time? Me by your side, I’ll be your face if you want, since I’m the more attractive one between us. No dark circles, it looks like I have a mouth.” he shrugged at the visible perturbed expression not at all condemning the physical critique, “Just saying. I’m able to provide more than my mind, I have my body which is much fitter and lends to more seduction tactics if a case requires than yours.”  
  
“I’m more than willing to step in when needed, Beyond. I’d rather you stay at Wammy’s and-”  
  
“And _what_?! Wait there like your good little pet until you summon me?! No! _No_! I’m tired of that!” he lunged hands across the table gathering white cloth between furious knuckles, “I will _not_ waste away to madness. I will _not_ be your backup to pick up your slack any longer. I am _not_ just _your_ replacement, I _am_ you, I am _everything_.”  
  
“I already gave my answer.” he whispered, prying quivering hands away, “If you cannot handle the burden any longer, then it is a solution of relieving you of said hardship.”  
  
“Oh, fuck off, I’d sooner die than that and you know it. May as well have just killed me here, bastard.”  
  
“I’d rather you alive.”  
  
“Why? Do you _love me_?” he beamed, “Or do you love what I can do for you?”  
  
“What can I do for you to satisfy you or resolve the disillusion you’ve concocted for yourself?”  
  
“Disillusion?” he stood up, “I am not _disillusioned_! You’re the one in denial if you think so lowly of me.”  
  
People were staring again.  
  
“Sit down.”  
  
“No.” he bent down so they are face to face again, noses touching, “Listen well. Remember I gave you a chance. Remember this. You had opportunity. You _wasted_ it.”  
  
They met again six months after for what is best labeled ‘hate sex’ in Guam.  
  
Beyond asked the same questions this time with his hands around Lawliet’s throat after testing the durability of the back of his skull on the headboard. Even with his face going purple and head growing a red halo beneath him on the floor of the grungy hotel they snuck into, he still said no. It was then that Beyond saw the truth of the lie behind the idea of succeeding the title L. So long as L breathes it will always be out of reach. Nothing he could do in proof or spite would ever deliver what he needed to sate his appetite.  
  
In his mind there was only defying L, while in hiding he constructed the perfect string of locked room killings to haunt his true equal for the remainder of his existence. After all, in life he will not be enough and in death he still will not be, but at least he will ensure constant thought and wonder. At the start of each case Beyond sought for his face to flash in Lawliet’s mind, for his signature to be scrawled in blood with each death unlikely not caused by him. But he craved the unending pondering, which is why he would die for his own fulfillment. This was the only way as he saw it, and as he tried to complete his task he wondered if A thought the same.  
  
All of the deaths in BB’s case were in honor of Lawliet. L despised that ultimately. Not once when pursuing this hobby turned job turned moral complex did he want this bloodshed or psychological dismemberment of people he values. When the conclusion of the Los Angeles murders were finalized in Beyond’s imprisonment, he promised himself to not allow the next two up for the spots, Near and Mello, to reach these levels of unhinged desperation.  
  
It would appear it was all in vain when Watari buzzed in on a rather prosperous meeting between the returned task force of both Yagami men, Mogi and Matsuda. The air between the team was starting to settle into some form of normalcy; they were beginning to realign to their old habits. A few jokes were even being tossed about despite the morose topic of calculating Misa Amane’s next moves to gain them first class access to the Third Kira. Hope was trickling back into their ranks but also motivation- a goal and possible end were back in sight. L was going to start working his way back into Light’s favor when the call came in causing the role of leader to be tossed into the college student’s lap.  
  
Hunched over whirling screens, phone calls and tracking methods he aided in the scramble of stolen materials. One of the prodigal sons had sporadically fled the house leaving a torrential path in his wake. Knowing of Mello and Near’s competition with one another he assumed this all boiled down to a need of inclusion. Once on the line with Mello for a split second he was willing to offer a spot for him, anything to keep something stable, but it slipped away. They tracked the hijacked plane to a private airport in Ukraine. It was a smart move on their behalf, the duo, the numbers two and three for the L title, were able to escape with severe complications but in a dead end irregardless.  
  
He has been up for almost a full twenty four hours half-heartedly working the Kira case, a pocket client and the goose chase. From the time of recent slumber he’s been up over sixty hours which is pushing it for already insominac standards. Watari can sense this as the elderly gentleman watches his son of sorts rest his forehead on his drawn up knees answering yet another phone call, “…yes…yes…I know we don’t have a good scan of their faces but anything is-no I understand how-no this isn’t for the Kira-if you would stop interrupting me Mr. Prime Minster perhaps I could get in more than a sentence so we could properly argue…thank you. As I was saying, they aren’t dangerous, no, yes the bomb threat was…listen I don’t know where they got the guns but those men weren’t killed, tires can be replaced. I’m not trying to be funny, I’m trying to-” ,knobby hands sneak to a frustrated mouth testing a thumbnail, “Thank you, that is all I ask. Thank you. Alright, good afternoon.”  
  
The phone drops on the receiver to ring once again.  
  
L’s expression is nauseating as his eyes shift to Watari, “Use the voice filter I-” ,his cell phone jingles to life, Misa’s number flaring on the screen, “-have anther call…”  
  
Watari takes over as L shuffles out of the room then forces a, “Yes?"   
  
“Hi, Ryuzaki!” ,her cheery voice refreshing from angered tones of world leaders ready to snap his neck or retract support, “I was just calling to check-in like you said!”  
  
“Thank you. Do you have any information? Have you made contact with Kira?”  
  
“No, not yet. It’s just been boring network people. Oh, but I do have something that’s really, sorta, I guess, weird?”  
  
“Which is?”  
  
“Well, they said that I won’t get to talk to Kira.” ,he can hear her twirling her hair as he meanders, “That I just have to say what they tell me to say from what they said he said. Does that make sense?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“It seems mega sketchy to me." , she smacks on something, likely food, he's hungry, "So, like, do you want me to push to meet him? I think I’m justified here, especially since they want to send me on tour.”  
  
“Tour?”  
  
“Yeah, it's like a 'Go Around the World Talking About Kira' thingy, but also doing concerts because my management said so? I dunno. It’s their idea to boost morale?”  
  
“Kira doesn’t need a musical career to boost morale. This does seem very strange. Are any of these plans confirmed?”  
  
“Nope, except the tour thing, that’s totally happening. It’s just the singing thing that’s up for debate. They want to spin the album I’m releasing as a gospel type idea? Which wasn’t my intent at all, I'm a little pissed. They’re not listening to me, Ryuzaki! Yeah, I do like Kira, a lot but this album is about Light!" ,she lowers her tone to a muddled muttering, "Andkindaaboutmaybekillingyoubutlikeinametaphircwayokay?" ,she laughs then sort of casually moans, a sound that raises the hair on L's body, "I like you now though, we're friends! So, since we're friends can you, maybe, like, do that angry manger thing and call them and-”  
  
“I’ll get Mogi to help you, but that’s-”  
  
“It can’t be Mochi! He’s not scary! You scare them, Ryuzaki! Do it, please?”  
  
“No, I-”  
  
“For me?” her tone is a little too suggestive and he’s very fatigued.  
  
The idea of yelling at idiot businessmen trying to market Kira like a pop idol group sounds like a great way to unwind since his usual stress toy, Light Yagami’s cock, is currently under a chastity lock and key. When that belt would see release usually is a scheme he internally entertains, as one may background noise. Presently, it is another chore on a cumbersome agenda.  
  
“I’ll see. Anything else, Misa?”  
  
“Hmmm…oh! I have a meeting with Kiyomi to talk about my show, it premiers next week.”  
  
“They plan to upkeep the show while you tour?”  
  
“Uh-huh, they’re going to advertise my tour by episode three last I heard. Kiyomi and her team is going to give me the full proposition tomorrow. I could ask to meet Kira then if you want?”  
  
“Ask to talk with him on the phone, I doubt he’ll meet you face to face.”  
  
“What if I say you’ll be there?” ,she becomes giddy, “Oh, yeah that’d be so good! I’m a _genius_! He’ll totally meet if you’re there! And _bam_! Kira caught!”  
  
“This plan makes you seem highly suspicious, Misa. Just ask for the phone call, tell me or Mogi how it goes.”  
  
“Okay! You got it Ryuzaki! Oh and have you thought about my question…?”  
  
“You’re not seeing Light. If he wants to see you that’s still his choice, I’m not getting involved with your breakup.”  
  
“It’s a _break_ , not a break _up_.”  
  
“Anyways. Good night, Misa.”  
  
“Ryuzaki. It’s morning.”  
  
Death is craved as he hangs up the phone, his head swimming in a disoriented stupor. Usually multiple moving pieces enthrall him to no end, however operating on little sleep over multiple days is pushing him to limits he didn’t know he possessed. Should this case reach a close where he’s still alive, he hopes that none compare in complexity on a personal level ever again.  
  
Appraising his surroundings he finds himself not as far away as he thought, the thoughtless treading only deposited him at the end of the hallway leading to Watari’s room of screens. Begrudgingly, he retreats in time to see the man settle the phone back into its cradle. They share a few gasps of what could be considered relaxation until the separating smack of predictive words cracks the air, L ceases it with an astute, “I will go to bed _after_ this evening. There are many matters to tend to, Watari, regarding the case. As far as Mello and Matt are concerned, I leave that entirely in your hands. I would like updates and only brought into the fray, so to speak, unless I am needed. In the meantime, you are permitted to speak on my behalf. I am much too…aggravated to hassle those dimwitted leaders.”  
  
“Very well, sir.” Watari agrees, “Do call for me when you need your medications.”  
  
“Of course. Additionally, please keep a tighter watch on Amane than before. She sounded flighty on the phone. Also…have we been able to bug Takada’s phone?”  
  
“We have.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Nothing to report.”  
  
“Hmmm.” he pockets his hands, “Please have coffee and some sort of sugar sent down.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
The travel to the lounge is a meaningless blur, the swaying movement portioned memories filter into his forethoughts, a strange coping mechanism developed in recent years. Glimpses of the encounters with Beyond flit by in mirage phantoms through the hallways, dark red-brown eyes glimmering in obscured sunlight coupling with his figment silhouette in doorways or loitering at the end of hallways. It isn’t surprising that B chooses to haunt L now, his scratchy voice drawling, “Lawliet” in the tones of his own feet on the tile or obscure doors shutting or the heating switching back on. This is a terribly clever revenge plot, the deeds done are more scarring than that of any imaginative tormenting the man could conceive if Beyond were alive today.  
  
 _‘What would have happened if I accepted you?’_ he mourns, pausing to stare out a large window overlooking the neighboring buildings, _‘Would we be battling Kira together? Separately? What if I sent you to Light Yagami instead of myself?’_ That quandary pangs him with the sickening fantasies of their bodies joining as his has with his suspect, _‘If it were you, would he be saying probably fake proclamations of love to you, Beyond? Should the timeline adjust similarly, would it be you two I would be left alone to watch on screens, hidden behind my own title? You’d let me gamble your life as I’ve done with my own…you’d get off by my voyeurism. I can only imagine the turmoil we would face against one another alone where…no…this is self destructive. This is playing into his hand…or perhaps this is honoring him in a demented manner. He would likely adore that. We did know the worst ways to embark on one another. The moment physicality ignited we were doomed. I could not have even predicted the level of destruction that would result in the breaking of his heart. The longer I spend facading with Light I see that now, how he gave me everything he could and I spoilt it. But also, he was eager to dive into insanity, he was always crazy. He hid it from everyone but me. I could’ve stopped it if I acted better. Maybe if I accepted the lessons left by his sabbaticals the second round of successors wouldn’t be as burdened by a system I don’t even want. Surely there is time, it may be slim but that is preferable to nonexistent.’_ His own pondering are the devil’s work. A hand at his shoulder tests his sanity, bulging eyes swap to the startled expression of Light retracting his touch as if L is aflame.  
  
“-zaki, sorry!” he casually maneuvers his palm to the nape of his neck, “You’ve been spaced out for awhile. Are you alright?”  
  
“Lost in thought, apologies.”  
  
“No need to apologize.” he smiles, “As I was saying, we made a headway in the case, I don’t know if you’ve been getting my emails. You haven’t been responding so I figured it wasn't enough to warrant your attention or you didn't agree. I tried knocking on your door last night to discuss it in person, but you didn’t answer. I’m glad I caught you now so we could speak without an audience.”  
  
“Do you have things you don’t wish to disclose to the task force?”  
  
“N-no! Why would you assume such things, Ryuzaki?”  
  
He prefers Light call him ‘L’ ,hearing that name isn’t comfortable anymore.  
  
“Your behavior led me to such speculations. What did you want to speak about? We can talk while we go to the lounge.”  
  
“Sure, but would you mind stopping by the kitchen for coffee?”  
  
“Watari is already getting me some, it’s no problem to get you a cup as well.”  
  
“I'd appreciate it. Thanks.”  
  
Without missing a beat a text request is sent. Falling into a cursedly lingering pace they dwindle into wordless marshaling. There are endless unspoken and unfinished narratives between them, the tension is higher than acceptable. Although they’ve known one another roughly a year now, three of those months were spent handcuffed together, which gave a very rare peek into rushed intimacy for the both of them. Due to this, Light had the privilege of observing the unspoken details of the great, illustrious L all with the veiled innocent blissfulness of a mind wiped clean. Watching his strange schedules, habits and methods did more than annoy him unpredictably but also softened his opinion which was initially rather harsh. He’s seen the man adorn many masks, but haggard past recognition is a new face. The Light Yagami yearning for a simpler narrative steps forward in concern, noting the day and a half of absence which alternatively triggers the Kira mindset of protection.  
  
“So…what did you want to discuss?” L inquires as they enter another corridor.  
  
“Quite a bit, most pertaining to the Third Kira’s killing pattern. I’ve been keeping a ‘real time’ log as you know and have noticed a disturbing pattern, that being that it appears that he’s killing outside of Japan in the ‘current’ parameters. By this evidence, I wonder if there are other notebook users or if Kira is even in the country anymore.”  
  
“That is unfortunate information for us. Misa also mentioned Kira wanting her to go on tour…it seems like he’s expending his power.”  
  
“Tour?”  
  
“Yes, it is up for debate on if she’ll just be shaking hands and acting political or if she’ll be a Kira pop star. If Kira has lent his power to others across the world, and if there are other notebooks then her tour could be cover for him to either collect the notebooks or distribute more…no, that wouldn’t make sense…”  
  
“Exactly. With a power like that, I imagine Kira would keep it pretty limited. Whose to say that the users the notebook is given to won’t betray him?”  
  
“…you think this could happen?”  
  
“Why not? What would you do if some unknown sender gave you a magic killer notebook? Firstly, the idea is absurd, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t already dealt with it. Secondly, that’s a lot of trust to give someone. They are given the ultimate weapon to do with as they please, whose to say that the loaner wouldn’t just take matters into their own hands?”  
  
“Because in order to send it, I imagine Kira has their name and face. That’s enough of insurance for manipulation on his behalf. Certainly they could outwit him if they are so gifted, but the likelihood of that isn’t high. Whoever it would be given to would be a very obedient, righteous individual who worships Kira’s ideologies. They’d blindly follow.”  
  
“You’re right, besides I’m sure Kira could just preemptively write their names in his death notebook. if I were him, I’d do it that way and make a chain out if it.”  
  
“A chain...how interesting. Care to elaborate?”  
  
“It’s pretty gruesome, but it would be effective. He could send a notebook, write the user’s name in his own to die by a certain time to ensure Kira’s safety. But before that, I’d have it written that they send the notebook onto a new user and so on and so forth. It’s fairly untraceable if done right. Plus it would really give us a scramble for his location.” Light forces his lips into a tense line to avoid laughing, _‘Imagine having enough notebooks to do this on a global scale. I wouldn’t need a death note to give L a heart attack, the chaos would be incalculable. It also wouldn’t be entirely practical. Not many people are worthy of such a gift. Certainly not the numbers needed to complete such a feat._ ’ He drinks in the unraveling form of the man beside him, _‘It’s a daunting idea for him though. Whatever emergency he’s handling aside, this isn’t helping and seems to match his issue. Maybe milking this would be fun…’_  
  
“If you pair it with Misa’s tour information, this could either be a plan he’s currently experimenting with or is ready to implement.” he eagerly stops in the hallway, enthusiastically gripping the waif’s shoulders, “Ryuzaki…if this is the plan we could-”  
  
“-catch Kira. I know…" he raises a thumb to his mouth, aimlessly chewing, his eyes alight with thought, “This would fit the strange approach with Misa quite well…but what would make most sense is using the pages of a notebook. That way they people given the power aren’t limitless. It would also be even harder to trace. It's paper.”  
  
“Right.” Light slide his hands down the length of weakening arms. The arousing reminder of L using the death note teasing him to the degree of mentally thanking the sadist the four hours of hell for training his ability to halt his hardness. He wants to fuck him awfully. “You tested it…” he rubs his thumbs in thought against soft material, simmering at the taught muscle underneath, “…anything else you played with that you forgot to mention?”  
  
“No…but I wonder the page limit of the notebook.”  
  
“Limit?” he allows his hands to carefully rest curled around those wiry arms, “What are you suggesting?”  
  
A smirk peers behind a fingernail, “…do you like confetti, Light?”  
  
“Ummm…”  
  
 _‘Please do not shred the death note.’_ he internally begs.  
  
“I wonder if the pages, how do I put this…grow?”  
  
“…it’s not a plant, Ryuzaki.”  
  
“Thank you for your clever observation, Light, truly, you are my most valued team member".  
  
Light scowls, "Look, if you're just going to insult me-"  
  
"If Third Kira is using the notebook pages as we theorize, I wonder if he has a limit? If the pages are torn out altogether or one by one, is that all that is available or does the book produce more?”  
  
“You’re asking this like I might know.”  
  
A scattered brow raises in question.  
  
“Bastard, I’m not-”  
  
A dumb grin.  
  
He sighs in false exasperation, “We could find out, I suppose.”  
  
“Excellent, Light. Our skills are advancing.”  
  
“Skills?”  
  
“The mind rea-ah, right. We’re fight-" ,a sly smirk, “Never mind.” ,he pops out of Light’s grasp leaving his hands upsettingly cold, “Let’s ask the task force their permission to tear up one of the notebooks. I think they’ll agree, no one’s going to die unless that other fake rule is true…” a frown, “That would be unfortunate.” he mumbles, “I’ll rip the pages just to be safe.”  
  
“Or you could have an inmate do it?” Light sarcastically offers, “Isn’t that more of your style?”  
  
“At times. I don’t mind because I think he rules on the back cover are absolute bullshit.”  
  
“Not as bullshit as that little jab. What were you babbling about? Was it mind reading?”  
  
He lulls his steps, savoring the tease, “It was.” his voice lowers in the borderline growl he is all too aware of the effect on Light’s trouser comfort, “Have you forgotten already?”  
  
“Forgotten what, Ryuzaki?” he taunts childishly.  
  
“Our commentary of…us and how well we mentally communicate.” he answers while stepping closer, both sleep deprivation and indignation ramping the sexual apprehension poisoning their air, “We were betting how soon it would be until words weren’t needed for us to speak.”  
  
Happily taking the bait as if he is the one serving it, Light closes the space between them, their insipid game igniting to determine how close they can converse until the proximity results in vexing lips clashing. He wants to trace a line across that narrow mouth but refrains, L still has repenting to do. “Words were never really needed for us, intuition is all we require, don’t you think?”  
  
“Agreed. We communicate efficiently, lacking mistake when taciturn.”  
  
“Colorful language. I do enjoy your diction.”  
  
“Thank you.” he’s the one to break first, a hand stretching across Light’s hip, relaxing at the familiar threads of his clothing, “Fascinating how proficient immobile speech is.”  
  
“I could listen to you spin superfluous sentences like that for hours, L.” he grins on the name, “Your voice is nice, even nicer in _other_ situations.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“Cute.” he opts to meet in the breaking, perching a few fingers under a knifelike chin, “You’re cute, L.”  
  
“That’s been used…” the scent of his breath is ruining him quickly, but he refuses to be the first to cave, “Already out of tricks?”  
  
“Not at all…I merely take pleasure in complementing you.”  
  
“I thought you didn’t think highly of my appearance.”  
  
“Beauty works oddly like that.” fingers trace over the features spoken of, “Through my falling for you, I honestly have found immense gorgeousness in you from your unkept hair, imaginary eyebrows, pretty wide eyes, crooked nose which,” he laughs under his breath, “,might be my doing. I swear it was straighter before we got to know each other.”  
  
“Funny.”  
  
“Not trying to be.” his expression reveals the sincere self buried in treacherous miasma, “I like your nose, it’s a little too long for your face but I think it makes you handsome. As well as these sunken cheek bones…it complements my favorite…jaw…” The sentiment soaking into him is revolting, but he endures, “Your neck is sexy too.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
“Yes, it’s very pronounced. I like to defile it…” he lines a lone finger to rampant collarbones, “…these are very nice.”  
  
He’s practically shivering underneath Light’s touch, “I miss you.” he blurts, needy grey eyes latching onto toiling brown hues, “…do you miss me?”  
  
That finger morphs to a hand curling against the nape of L’s neck pairing with a ghastly, “Yes. I miss you tremendously. It’s taking all I have to not fuck you right here.”  
  
“We have that room,” he preemptively grabs a torso not yet meant for him, “,let’s go-”  
  
Light forces L in place, conjuring the perfect performance of a misting persona, “L, I want to. But like I said…I need more time-”  
  
“Then why do this?” he snaps out of the other’s hold, “What do you want?”  
  
“ _You_!” he reaches to take his hand with both of his own, “I want you, L. But I am still reeling the pain of you almost senselessly stealing yourself from me-”  
  
“Come on, you know just as well as me that-”  
  
“ _No one knew!_ ” Light yells, hating how authentic he sounds, “Not _you_ , not _me_ , hell, maybe not even Kira! And you are cruel enough to fuck me then be able to toss your life around like it’s nothing!”  
  
“I’ve told you repeatedly that my life is dangerous and-”  
  
“There’s dangerous and there’s stupid and you were being inarguably moronic! I’ve already said my peace I’m not having this argument again!” he claims a few breaths, “…once again we are back at having to prove one another. I know you see Kira in me all the time, and I need proof of-”  
  
“Loyalty?” he whispers, “Is that it?”  
  
“Trust.”  
  
He memorizes the sensation of their hands together, capturing the sight in a damning photographic memory, “I understand.”  
  
Giving a farewell squeeze Light allows the severance. “We should get goi-”  
  
L has him in his grasp once more. “Until we can’t…can we keep this?”  
  
A true smile, “Sure.”  
  
The walk back was sweetly relaxing. They didn’t talk, it wasn’t needed. Being around one another caught them up to speed, fast forwarding endless hours to gather into the handful of moments enjoying one another presence. Approaching the hall leading to the task force, they broke off their hands, not before Light gave L's a fond grip to surprise the other with a delicate kiss to the back of it. Adolescent smirks were tossed between them the duration of their journey to work.  
  
Coffee was waiting at their respected stations, which as of today were back to being side by side. Curled with bridling consciousness, L checks his emails unsure of his reaction to see one from Near. He is exhausted by all things successors, but is anticipating any additional findings. Eyeing Light, he capitalizes on the small talk being shared with Matsuda about the upcoming rainstorms. Opening the message he avidly devours the information, having to digest it twice to verify an immense breakthrough.  
  
Finally some good news, of which he may have another piece to stack on the budding case either against or in favor of Light’s innocence. Considering the factors, it is the latter. An email to Watari insights the inevitable delivery of the textbook in question, an examination could perhaps lead to another unfortunate breakthrough. He might just have him yet, in what manner, it is unbridled infatuation that begs the prolonged answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm exhausted and upon writing this the US 2020 election that is wilder than what the fuck just happened is going down swinging, so this was a weird way of I guess processing national trauma?
> 
> Ahhh I hate the party system, it's wack. 
> 
> Not as wack as this chapter OML I love Wammy's and as I write this I completely understand why after L's death in canon that it derails, like it's literal children given virtually no rules and a little too much power fighting over a notebook. 
> 
> I refuse to put the death note on a rocket tho. Although it was p funny. 
> 
> I'm thinking we check in on our man Mikami next chapter? I wonder how he's doing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light's very not good bad chapter that the asshole somehow worms himself out of. What a dick. 
> 
> Mello has an identity crisis, Matt thinks it's a little hot. 
> 
> Misa and Takada have a femme fatale pissing contest that makes Soichiro regret his life choices while Matsuda assumes the role of task force enabler. 
> 
> The author kinda misses Aizawa. Especially for task force banter, L and Matsuda have too much power. I'd watch them host a talk show TBH. 
> 
> Mikami wants answers and Near is just having a T I M E watching from his oriental rug on the floor. 
> 
> I can't believe I'm out here about to write a full fucking album for Misa's fictional music career. I hate this. But also wish I was good with music to actually make some demo tracks, Death Note Musical what's good?
> 
> EDIT: If you can read this, I'm still editing this chapter, but he legible :)

_“I’ll be a broken messiah, one and only for you  
Going to be living in heaven’s hell Monday through Monday  
Waiting in the emergency room till  
It’s you arriving in through_

_Welcoming me with your love, it’s true  
  
There isn’t nothing I won’t do  
To be a broken messiah for you  
Broken messiah for you  
Broken messiah for you…”_  
  
Exhausting would not even cover the level of which she’s drained but somehow her vocal cords pull out the finalizing hymns to conclude the last take of the new single. The record label she’s signed to suddenly demanded three new songs in addition to the album she already completed. Amid arguing the exploded workload of being Kira’s overnight spokesmodel, Misa’s schedule offers no time for breathing much less three new singles.  
  
“It’ll be great for your publicity!” the actual manager cheered as she begrudged signed any free time away, “You’ll thank me in time, Misa.”  
  
As she scribed her name she thought of L, Ryuzaki, worried that with all of the surveillance by the newly appointed guardsmen hire by the Japanese government to keep her safe will hinder her investigation for him-for Light. They stood outside of all rooms, one stands in all places around the clock. It is suffocating how much they refuse to let her out of their sight and they’ve only been in each other’s company for two days.  
  
Having enough she smiles through the compliments by the mixers, the producer giving the thumbs up for her to leave the booth. His cheesy grin makes her nauseous as he claps his hands together, “Wonderful, wonderful work! We should have a solid demo out by tomorrow. Do you have a concept for a music video yet? I think this will warrant one.”  
  
Music videos are the last thing on her mind. Popping a happy smile she fiddles with a false zipper on her dress, “Oh, I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly had time to sleep much less think of a video! I think whatever you think is best should be good. Hire a good director and it should all work out?”  
  
“Correct!” He beams, “I’ll get the best! There’s one from Korea that I think would do nicely. We need as much media of you as we can get. Next week will be an intensive shooting week, we’ll be in touch with your agency.”  
  
“I can’t wait!” she chirps, “Can’t wait to hear the demo! Thank you all for your hard work!”  
  
Waving goodbye Misa skips out of the studio thrilled for a second of peace as the formation of human bodies swarms around her to form a secure perimeter. Gently tapping on the lead officer’s shoulder she asks to go to the bathroom, thrilled to find it a single stall which means they have to wait outside and knock once every five minutes. Running the water she dials up Mikami with shivering hands her manicure making it even harder to hit the right buttons.  
  
The line rings…  
  
…and rings…  
  
…and when she is fooled into thinking he may pickup…  
  
…an automated voicemail.  
  
She snaps the burner closed struggling to not throw it on the floor. The anxiety of it all running high. It is strange enough that he made her the face of Kira, and now he doesn’t respond at all. At first she thought this to be some complicated plan to get rid of her, but forcing her onto a pedestal certainly contradicted that fear. What he is after is outside of her understanding, but the gut feeling of mistrust coupled with toeing the line of an unknown execution date worsened the situation. The ignorance tests her loyalty to him, she has thought too long on telling L, but in telling him then Light would know and that would upset him. He wouldn’t understand that she’s in danger, he would think she’s disrupting his plans.  
  
Or maybe this is apart of his plan…she never can tell.  
  
Either way, for now she is playing on L’s side and he sent her a recording device in the mail disguised as fan mail. The strangest part of it all wasn’t the convincing presentation, but that he genuinely asked for signed photos and some of her merchandise. Not just some, but all she was able to send. It was humorous to walk out of her agency’s office with armfuls of her own face and name printed or embroidered on shirts, hoodies, bags, anything material that could be sold. When she got home it was packaged in a cute box then mailed to the task force headquarters. Something nags at her hitting that the weirdo isn’t a fan but is planning something. If he plans to go out in public then that would leave many opportunities to get a chance to see his face which could lead to his name.  
  
His name, that’s how she is where she is now. If only she could have remembered the dangling words above his head, but not only was she not the best at English, but he has a strange name. Not only that but there were millions of names she was seeing everyday and the additional trauma of the apprehension is more clear than the idiot’s name. However, that small detail is all Light wanted. Because of her failure she’s now weaving a recording device up her underwear to hide it in the band of her bra.  
  
She gives a few little jumps to ensure all is secure then hides the phone. Flushing the toilet to sell the lie her hands shuffle underneath running water to upkeep auditory appearances. Opening the door, she’s immediately swallowed by the team. Her feet are forced one in front of the other in a terrible march to her next appointment, Kiyomi Takada, who sits in her signature coffee shop prying large sunglasses from her eyes.  
  
Setting them on the tabletop she settles into her seat, the electricity of the air upsetting as she stares across at the apparent puppet master dully sipping decaf coffee. From the last time they met, he’s aged significantly with sleeplessly dragging his eyes and collapsing his face. Despite it all he’s still handsome, however she isn’t interested in him by that manner anymore nor is he in her, if he ever was. The cup is returned to the small saucer coupled with it, he wets his lips to break the fifteen minute silence droning on between them, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”  
  
“I do, yes.”  
  
“Are you certain that you are unmonitoredercd by… _him_?”

He means L.  
  
“I’m certain.”  
  
She is more than certain. Complicated, deceitful acrobatics were performed to arrive to the cafe. Kiyomi figured out her cell was bugged a few days ago when she left a test up to Coil by leaving him alone with her things. Watching from the restroom hallway she was a little surprised in how quickly he was able to tamper with it, returning it with ease. All things considered, it was comforting to know they are both equally awful not only this, but she was correct. Upon this knowledge, she kept her conversations and messages carefully than ever before. They arranged this meeting via email passing their own coded system as casual messages. 

When he requested an audience, she had a limited time to concoct then execute a plan. Knowing that the phone is likely being tracked as well as monitored at all times, she scheduled a girl’s luncheon with a group of women from NHN in a privately reserved restaurant. Once there she faked a sick stomach, excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving her phone in her purse at the table. Sneaking out the back with her credit card and ID on her as well as some cash, she hailed a taxi to meet Mikami. No one noticed, no one followed her, no one would know.  
  
Upon the knowledge of the notebook, she and Mikami agreed to limit their friendliness to avoid suspicion. Although cutting off all ties would be equally so, they have groomed their relationship as friends who keep in touch from time to time. Having him request this did not sit well with her.  
  
“If you say so, then I believe you.” he affirms, “I’m sure you have many questions for me, but are on a limited schedule, correct?”

“Yes.”  
  
“We’ll be blunt then.” his cold eyes dig into hers, “I’ve tired to eliminate the girl from the project but she is immune. This is confusing, troublesome and a massive pause in the plan.”  
  
“Immune? But how?”  
  
“I don’t know. The assistant attached to the project hasn’t shown up since my first encounter. There are no rules disclosing an answer to this problem. However, I theorize its because she may be in full authority over the operation. Initially I thought I would force her to release it to me, but she made a convincing argument.”  
  
“She’s more trouble than she’s worth. Are you sure it’s-”  
  
“I’m sure. With this…complication I’ve arrived at a plot to fire her but also deplete any support of those that oppose the company.”  
  
“I see. And you wish to disclose that to me?”  
  
“No.” he pauses to take another drink, “I wanted to apologize to you, for it should be you in her place minus the theatrics. They are nothing more than embellishment to accompany a lavish display of power. You see, it may seem chaotic and unorthodox but this will make sense in time. I need you to continue to trust me.” His demeanor softens, he wants to touch her hand at least but that would give the wrong implications, “I trust you. I trust you deeply. We are all we have outside of God. We cannot doubt one another for the slightest moment, Kiyomi.”  
  
“If that’s true, why can you not disclose this to me?”  
  
“For your safety. You’ll know what you must. Keep working as you have.” he finishes off the coffee, “You’ve been excellent thus far. I’m proud.”  
  
She won’t lie, it feels almost orgasmic to hear validation that Misa Amane is not the chosen one for a new world. That she is still the preference once again forced to take a seat by the unfair dealings of fate. “Thank you, I appreciate you and value you as well.”  
  
A worn mask cracks to express happiness for a split second. But she cannot return the smile.  
  
“What is she to the workplace?”  
  
The mask is thrown back up, “She is who sent the assignment to me. Plainly speaking, she’s the only one who can talk to him. Not just that, but she’s the only one who likely knows who he is.”  
  
The reassurance cracks under the blow of knowledge. Sinking into the chair she lifts a hand to her brow, the world tilting around on a wobbling perspective. _‘Misa Amane of all people knows who Kira is? How in the world did she…’_ it’s like the atmosphere is backhanding her abruptly with no consideration for how stupid she’s been. _‘…she went missing right when Light and that new student did. I remember seeing the news about it, tabloids were chastising her for taking an irresponsible vacation. Everyone at university assumed she and Light ran off, or Light and the new student ran off, but he had always been scarce beforehand. They’re connected! If Misa knows who Kira is, and is constantly singing love ballads for him claiming they’re really for her ex, Light then…could Light be Kira? It makes perfect sense! He’s more than intelligent to execute all of this, he’s charming enough to maintain a conniving front to deter people. Everyone trusts him and likes him.’_  
  
“..Kiyomi? Kiyomi are you okay?” Mikami sounds like he’s underwater.  
 _  
‘That would make his relationship with Misa make sense! But then…she would be the fake Kira on the news then? According to the deep digging files on her, and Coil confirmed it himself, she was taken in by L himself for questioning…the vacation! It was a cover! There was publications of her manager at the time having drug possession, that’s right! She was arrested as an accessory but then released and she went on vacation. It’s a cover! And Light’s disappearance happened right after that, he must have been suspected by L and detained the same as her. That would justify his sudden involvement with his father’s police work, he’s chief of police, he must be working with L. Assuming he’s Kira, that all checks out because of Mikami’s telling me of Kira being unable to move because he’s more or less too close to L and under his control! It’s a big jump but…that new student, he could be L! Or someone posing as L in the very least!’_ she doesn’t realize Mikami’s approaching until the warmth of his hands envelopes her wrists as he speaks in a gentle tone asking if she’s okay, questioning on if they need to seek medical attention.  
Snapping out of her epiphany she curls her trembling hands around his, “…I think I know who he is.”

His mouth parts while eyes open wide, “…what?”  
  
“If Misa is the second…then I have a very good idea of who the first is.” she cannot help but beam brightly, the chills of theoretic information sweeping her, electrifying her with visions of a dual ruling god and goddess of the revived world. _‘Of course it’s you! It couldn't’ be anyone else than you!’  
_  
She wants to weep in her realization, “I need to confirm with Miss Amane first. Luckily I have a meeting with her this afternoon to discuss the show. She’s like an open book. Even if she’s lying I’ll know.”  
  
“What would we do then?” Mikami whispers, “How could this change-”  
  
“If this is who I think it is, it would be best that we continue as planned. I may be able to reach out to him and be the new point of contact. We could free him from the confines he’s in and embark on our…project sooner than later.”  
  
He ignites with resurged passion, “Yes! That sounds excellent! In the meantime, we’ll continue as you said.”  
  
Part of her wishes to embrace him, or kiss him. Instead she tenderly grips his shoulder, “It was great seeing you again.”  
  
Gently placing a hand atop hers he applies careful pressure, “You as well.”  
  
As if in treacherously languid motions, they politely packed up their little cafe scene to tuck their things back into a briefcase or a pocket to finally bid farewell. Hands raise in goodbyes as the couple separates into their own plots; Mikami returns to his office to work off his anxiety of perhaps knowing the face of god while Kiyomi cordially graces her departing luncheon missing her lipstick, figuring this best sells her fictional illness. Delicately hovering a hand above her stomach she waves off inquires of how sick she is while graciously accepting her phone by a co-worker who used the restroom after her return.  
 _  
‘This all feels too easy.’_ she chastises, surveying the women scribbling their names at the end of the listed foods bought, _‘Look at all of you, living your simple, happy lives eagerly pumping out work to wait open palmed for your meager paychecks. Little do you know that a goddess is among you, a goddess alone has likely uncovered the god dictating our world, and a goddess will be so merciful to you all when the judgmental rapture ensnares this rotting hell-space. I have an idea of what Mikami has planned for Misa Amane, and I hope you all regard her as a beautiful example of what is to become of the impudent in Kira’s world.’   
  
_The lunch closes transitioning the group to the NHN building where they assume their already determined roles. While the flock skitters into their slots in the corporate ladder, Kiyomi strides with easy confidence. A few of them assume their spot by her side, propping open schedules to recite the itineraries she already knew. Despite honestly respecting and valuing her workplace there is apart of her that vexes its mediocrity. Not only that but at times it feels redundantly vain especially in the form of the ninety pound headache bubbling nonstop in a greenroom with the door opened. Peering inside the profile of Misa Amane is deeply evaluated like an unimpressive package of chicken from the supermarket; she’s what the recipe requires but there are better cuts. It is purely spite of the universe as to why this lesser value has been distributed.  
  
Noticing the stare, the chicken, so to speak, leans away from an incoming powered brush, “Hi, Kiyomi! Good afternoon!”  
 _  
‘What a stupid girl.’_ Kiyomi battles her souring instinct to instead pleasantly smile, sauntering inside, “Afternoon, Miss Amane. How are you since we last spoke?”  
  
“Great!” she chirrs, swiveling her seat to admire her reflection, “Better than ever, actually!” her delicate little hands fluff already blown out blond hair, “I really like being Kira’s spokesmodel, it’s got so many perks. I already thought I was super famous before, but now I’m mega famous! You have no idea how many countries and people want to talk to me.” her false green-blue eyes slide to her opponent in the glass, “Its kinda overwhelming, but I feel powerful. I made another song in two days. The demo will be out tonight.”  
  
“Congratulations.” Kiyomi likes the severe cracking of her heels on the plastic tile flooring, “The other song is very popular, it’ll be refreshing to have a variety on the radios since you’re the only one on it these days.”  
  
“Yeah.” she grins dumbly, arching her body to stretch, worrisome thinness pressing against the silken red dress draping her form, “If I’m not on the radio, I’m on every single advertisement. Did you know that corporations are buying old photoshoots just to have my face on their stuff?”  
  
“That’s impressive. I imagine you’re extremely booked and really appreciate you taking time from your schedule to meet with me today.”  
  
“Of course. I’m sorry that I had to to hair and makeup here, I have a TV interview in a few hours.” Misa smiles while thanking her team who dissolves away, one of the guards staying at the entrance of the room. Flashing Kiyomi an apologetic shrug she sighs, “I’m not allowed to be unsupervised, it’s sanctioned by the government to ensure my safety.”  
  
“I understand completely. I don’t mind.” Kiyomi takes the other seat across from her, “However, there is some confidential information I would like to disclose to you, would it be alright for your guard to stay outside the door?”  
  
Coldness pricks Misa’s skin as she shifts in her seat, glancing at her phone in her lap a text from L springs to life. Toying with her earring she fiddles with the device, “Ummm…I don’t know about that…” checking the message she has the ‘okay’ to do so, “…I guess that makes sense.”

The text doesn’t go unnoticed. Hawk eyes casually loiter on the small screen, getting an obscure read of the name ‘Ryuzaki’ as the sender. Excitement of confirmation swells in her chest, _‘Ryuzaki…wasn’t the transfer student’s name Hideki Ryuga? Could this be the student or the pop star? Misa’s been in an odd semi-public relationship with the idol, it could be him. I can’t see the message but I wonder if she’s processed her breakup with Light enough to be this attached to texts from Hideki? I can find out.’_  
  
“Thank you.” she gives a gracious wave to the guard who does as has been agreed without prompting. Inching closer she deceitfully drops her guard, acting like a teenager at a sleepover, but with dignity “Who’s that?”  
  
“Hmm?” Misa slips the phone to the counter.  
  
“Boyfriend?” a knowing smirk, “I peeked, is Ryuzaki a little nickname for…Hideki?”  
  
Cheeks flare red, “I-uh-hmmm…sorta. We aren’t very…public about it right now so…”  
  
“I get it. And with the Kira situation I imagine relationships are difficult for you.” She shifts her tone to be gentler, “Are you over Light?”  
  
Her eyes widen then narrow, “Excuse me?”  
  
“Sorry, sorry.” she reclines away to give space, lowering her stare to a bashful display, “I’m sure you know that he and I-”  
  
“Dated? Yeah. I know.” her arms cross tightly, “He didn’t talk about you, like, ever.”  
  
“I would’t imagine Light would. He’s a very reserved person.”  
  
“Not around me, he’s an open book!” Misa splays out in her little chair almost drunkenly, “When we were together we were so honest. He was so romantic, and forward. I met his family on our first date you know.”  
 _  
‘You’re so full of shit.’_ Kiyomi internally snarls, “Oh?”  
  
“Yeah, his mom loved me! She called me her daughter. And his little sister, did you know he has a little sister?”  
  
“I believe he mentioned it?”  
 _  
‘He never told me anything about his family outside of his father being an officer and answering a call from his sister in front of me.’_ the stabbing of Misa’s closeness to her rightful partner, the missing half to her, a goddess, revolts her. Initially she half-heartedly wished a peaceful death to the moronic bottle dyed bimbo but with these petty developments, the latter is more than acceptable.  
  
“It’s too bad you didn’t meet her. Sayu is so sweet. Her and I became quick besties, she called me her sister in like no time at all. It was really cute!”  
  
Her gushing ranting is nothing more than droning background noise for the eavesdropping task force dully fixating on the broadcasted surveillance trickling out of the surrounding speakers of the lounge. Soichiro’s dropping demeanor causes a strange throat clearing from L and Matsuda who share humor in his ragged fashion as the women begin discussing the size of his son’s manhood. That banter alone is quite comedic with the contrasting vocalization of Kiyomi’s eloquent speech not once saying Misa’s favorite word of conversation being ‘dick’. Their point of interest is a diluted response of his father, a poised hand propping his head upright by his forehead, eyes glowering into a vague disassociation.  
  
Absolute glee rips open Matsuda’s features as he leans over to whisper to L ushering another wave of bemusement into a thumbnail gnawing session, “How much longer until the chief resigns from the case do you think?”  
  
“That or how long do you think Aizawa would’ve lasted?” L offers.  
  
“Oh, you dog! He’d hand your ass to you just for saying that!”  
  
“I’m very aware.”  
  
“I’m glad you two are enjoying yourselves.” Light humbly settles his lips into a terse line, “Is there anyway Misa’s pseudo boyfriend, Ryuzaki, could text her to get the conversation back on track to finding Kira or are we buckling in for soap opera bickering?”  
  
“It’s not our fault that you’re such a-”

“That’s my son, Matsuda.” Soichiro rumbles behind recovering shame, “Choose your wording carefully.”  
  
“Ah-a popular guy!” he laughs nervously while shrinking into his seat, inching closer to the lead detective as if the man would provide protection.  
  
“I would like to note, that I did not…with either of them.” Light exhales through grit teeth.  
  
“Mmmm…” Matsuda purrs slyly, nearly crawling into L’s lap who shoots him a glower, keeping him at bay.  
  
“Sure.” the detective mutters, “If they don’t round out the conversation soon, the most I can do is maybe text but I don’t want to rouse Kiyomi’s suspicions.”  
  
“That’s right.” Soichiro nods, “Aiber mentioned that she seems acutely aware of his false cover. Or is at least rather unsure of him.”  
  
“Regardless, I have a feeling that she’s hiding something…” L murmurs as he focuses his attention back to the screens displaying audio wavelengths as the women speak. His stare barely flickers to Light, drinking in his profile, the expression he wears while studying the information spiraling around him. The burdensome reality cuts into his heart, the newfound anxiety of being on the edge half praying more evidence to swing in Light’s favor as the remaining half cheers for the incriminating list’s growth. This listening should not unveil any new attestation of his theorized Kira truth, if anything it has been a wonderful study of his humility but also a perverse mnemonic of the lust directed at the man beside him.  
  
Their team has recouped to the best of their ability, it’s comforting to resume the routine ongoings of inspection. While he longs for the day of the case’s closure, L has found a family of sorts in these grueling hours combing over the mundane. Part of him wishes for it to never end, especially when he catches himself lost in the moment only an arm’s length from his paused lover.  
  
Noticing, a keen upturn of Light’s lip electrifies him, “Is something distracting you, Ryuzaki?”  
  
 _‘You absolute bastard.’_ he praises, craving the taste of the man still argued in the speakers. There’s a sick pride in knowing that he’s had the privilege neither woman will indulge in by having the body they claim to have lain with at his complete disposal. L highly doubts they’ve roamed Light’s naked form, traced every dip and crevasse with his hands, tongue and lips. By the turns of the game or poor humor of fate it is Light Yagami and L Lawliet who have performed the perverted lies claimed by the fibbing women, and they would sooner die by one another’s hands than openly argue that fact with anyone, much less a supposed ex-lover.  
  
“Yes.” L grumbles, “I’m very distracted…I know we spent months rather close but I didn’t bother measuring. Is it really _eleven_ inches?”  
  
He reddens instantaneously then juts forward, their noses a breath away, Matsuda loosing all of his in muted wheezing, likely at Soichiro’s expression, “Why don’t you measure it yourself if you’re so curious?” he snaps then recoils away, angrily clicking on his computer, “I’m sure it’s larger than anything _you_ have to offer.”  
  
“Whoa-ho-ho-hoa!” Matsuda crows.  
  
The scraping of a chair going backwards answers a previous question regarding the chief, “I’m going to the restroom.”  
  
“We’ll call you if anything gets serious!” Matsuda calls after his lumbering feet climbing out of hell.  
  
“Is that an honest offer?” L moves closer, enjoying the time lacking the parental figure glowering from behind, “I hear it's very hard for people to accurately measure their own length. They’ll add more than is there, like how women subtract five pounds on the scale.”  
  
Venomous, auburn eyes silently lash out, “ _Are_ you on _that_ side of the fence, Ryuzaki?” he iterates in a mocking Misa Amane tone, “I’m one of Japan’s best and brightest, I can measure a multitude of things just fine. But thank you for your concern.”  
  
“Best and brightest, but not best and biggest.” the antagonizer mumbles, “I mean…you can’t be perfect at everything. Not even as far as anatomy is concerned.”  
  
“If you’re looking for a punch in the face or a new nose job, there are better ways to go about that than harassing me.” he snaps, “In front of my father, no less! What’s gotten into you?”  
  
He leers too close for Matsuda’s comfort, “You know good and well what’s gotten into me.”  
  
“Do I?” his brows raise, “Care to enlighten everyone on what that may be?”  
  
His features darken remaining unwavering, “…I’m not afraid to do something reckless.”  
  
“Because that worked out _so_ well for you previously.” Light practically spits, “I appreciate your…interest but at least take me out for dinner or clear me as suspect before asking to measure my dick, oh so great detective.”  
  
A grin perks L’s mouth. It scares Matsuda, he looks like a different person.  
  
“I’ll take you out to dinner.”  
  
The manner in which that’s spoken paints both men’s faces crimson.  
  
“Tha-that’s quite alright.”  
  
Admitting defeat, Light practically curls into his desktop, genuinely experiencing flustered augmentation unsure what part of him what feeling what. All he knew is that with almost every other encounter with L as of late, it typically resulted in a hemorrhaging raucousness pleading for the trickery to be forgotten so he could finally release this pent up desire. If they were alone, he would’ve grabbed that stupid slender torso, thrown it against the desk to savagely crush their lips together to conclude the metaphoric winter allowing the ice to melt into sweet, delicious need running down his throat. He wants all of that man, his fury, his rage, his love, his hate, the smell of his cologne, the sensation of his hands on Light’s body in the shower, in the morning or absentmindedly while aimlessly tossing about ideas.  
  
The devil inside him recoils from those tender fantasies, _‘Don’t demean yourself. He’s your opponent. With any luck he’ll be a worthy vice god or fuck toy, it all depends on how terrible he is for you. Having specific sentiments like smell, touch and memories will compromise you. None of this is real until L’s pawns are all removed. When it is only you two on the board this could potentially bend to your aberrant preferences; which didn’t exist until you began this gamble. He was not of interest before you made him of interest. Do not fool yourself into thinking that he’ll bypass your execution order because he’ll miss the smell of you, or the softness of your hair or how well you two fuck. L will not spare you, unless it is guaranteed that he is under your absolute power, do not spare him. That isn’t how the game plays.’  
_  
No one is crueler to Light than himself, the self he’s cultivated through deceit and bloodshed. What he curses is not his yearning but how his forefront self is the person from the Yotsuba investigation, the reset mind from L’s prison. Ideations of dinners and futures are inhuman in torture. The innocence of Light does offer a fleeting joke of, _‘Could you let this go for him? You’re talented. L would bargain your life for your brain. Apparently the world might be willing to do so as well considering the secret people he spoke of. You have more options to keep him close, or keep yourself alive.’  
_  
A harsher tone chides, _‘Who would you be living for in that scenario? L or yourself? L or the world? You’re a god. Stop getting too persuaded by your own act. Remember that. If you have to have this discussion with yourself again, perhaps you aren’t fit to be god after all.’_

He is more than fit of the role deity; no one else on this earth is aside from the man beside him but even then, that is only extended so long as they are on the same side and he at Light’s. It’s a rude actuality however it is the same as the one he’s enduring except the rules are flipped in another’s favor.  
  
The conversation eventually draws close about their ex's body parts. Matsuda calls in the chief who stomps back into the room fairly begrudgingly. They all assume their attention back to the screens with the dancing wavelengths of discussion. Inside the greenroom the women are now opposing one another, father apart than before. Kiyomi is now resting with her back against the wall with arms casually crossed at her waist while Misa is tensely splayed on her makeup chair rubbing a nail on the seam of a phone clenched in her fist.  
  
“Miss Amane.” Kiyomi fluidly adjusts her bangs, “The unprofessional manner of this conversation is rather unbecoming of us both. Perhaps we need to reset our priorities or at the very least agree to not discuss Light Yagami any further.”  
  
“I’m totally fine talking about Light.” Misa sneers, “You’re the one being a bitch about it.”  
  
A glazed over threat glosses the woman’s eyes as a pompous smirk toys her perfectly painted lips, “Do you talk to all of your compatriots like this? It’s no wonder you have a diva reputation.”  
  
“Ha! Diva! You’re one to talk! Getting so upset over my romance with Light because you never had one! Poor, lonely, Kiyomi has to watch me have Light, be Kira’s chosen one and be the most popular woman in, I’d say, the world.” She mockingly offers sympathy, “I’d be jealous of me too.”  
 _  
‘There is nothing I’d like more than to have you killed here and now you irritate insect.’_ is what is mentally snapped, verbally her plan starts, “If you’re too immature to maintain conversation then just listen. There’s been a point made by your representation that you wish to meet Kira. I’d like to take this time to make it very clear that no one knows who Kira is, we get his word through heavily encrypted, impossible to trace means. Your request cannot be fulfilled because it is not available at this time. However…” a perfected index finger taps on a well toned arm as she starts stalking about the room, “…I’ve done so research on you, as has the company. I’d hate to cause a scene within NHN and want to discuss this privately, but according to sources being Yotsuba you were apprehended on possible charges of being the Second Kira. Is this correct?”  
  
Weight pushes on Misa’s stomach, acid from lunch teases an exploration up her trachea as she sighs with a shrug, “So what? It turned out to be false anyway. Big deal.”  
  
“It’s a very big deal. My sources also lead me to believe that you were in contact with the real Kira.”

“Real Kira?” Misa’s brows furrow, “What do you-”  
  
“The one that started all of this.” the meandering pauses behind Misa in the mirror, locking gazes through reflection, “The true god whom, through my own investigation, I believe I know who he is. I also believe that you know who he is as well.”  
  
“What are you-” a fake laugh, “You sound a little crazy, Kiyomi.”  
  
“You sound guilty.” she presses herself closer to the back of the chair feeling Misa stiffen, inhaling her sugar perfume and musky shampoo as she grips slender shoulders. Running her hands down she speaks in a low tone, “You know who god is, don’t you?”  
  
“Don’t touch-”  
  
Her hand stops by Misa’s breasts, “Excuse my reach.”  
  
“Hey! Don’t you da-”  
  
She thumbs the bump hidden in Misa’s bra her suspicions confirmed, having noticed it when the idol was stretching, “If you’re going to wear a bug, maybe have a thicker bra on.” a disgusting grin takes control as she grips Misa’s jaw in her hand, making their eyes meet, “Who is on the other line, Miss Amane?”  
  
“It’s for security!” she shrieks, slapping the hand at her face away, scrambling to her feet, “What the hell is wrong with you?!”  
  
“Nothing. I’m sorry.” Kiyomi stays still, “I’m only acting in god’s best interest, Misa. Shouldn’t you? After all…you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”  
  
Her features pale. In the task lounge all eyes shift to Light whose blood is turning to ice. The scrutiny of the detective next to him is equivalent to the world abruptly crushing his body. Confused panic wracks his mind as he flips through any and every instance with Kiyomi to find the one slip up that could’ve revealed himself to her. Nothing comes to mind. Not once during their dating or even in the restaurant with Matsuda did he ever give the smallest indication of his identity. Upping an unwavering resolve he charmingly tosses a stare to his audience.  
  
“She could just be talking about Kira, no need to jump to conclusions.” he evenly assures them in a tender tone.  
  
L’s eyes do not peel from the man at his right.  
  
“Uhhh…” Misa’s voice squeaks in the speakers, it grates on Kiyomi’s nerves in person, “Yeah, I guess? Look I think you’ve got the wrong idea about my involvement with the Kira Case or being the Second Kira, which I’m not.”  
  
“If you are, or were, that’s okay. I don't care. I just want you to tell me where the real Kira is.”  
  
“…why?”  
  
“I’m a reporter, Misa. I seek knowledge and truth. I’d like to meet the person giving me orders. I’d like to see the face of a force I consider holy.” she scoffs, “…I wouldn’t expect a silly girl like yourself to understand.”  
  
“ _Girl_?” Misa gawks, “I’m older than you, Kiyomi. Anyways even if I did know who Kira is, the true Kira, I wouldn’t tell you. I wouldn’t want someone like you near him.”  
  
“Someone like me?”  
  
She twirls golden strands between her ring guarded fingers, “I don’t like repeating myself. And I don’t think Kira would like you. Maybe you should be nicer to me, I’m practically a goddess after all. And when I’m united with my god, I might be merciful or wrathful.” a cute rise then fall of her shoulders, “Who knows? It's up to you to determine that.”  
 _  
‘It’s more up to me than you’ll ever know.’_ Not once since hiding a shred of the notebook in her bra has Kiyomi ever felt the urge or need to use it. And if it weren’t for the surveillance in Misa’s own lingerie or the plan promised by an authentic acting deity, she would have. Using the finishing line thrown down by her opponent, she works her silver tongue to the best of its ability, steering the discussion back to the show to cover the prerequisites of her job as newscaster. It’s oppressive and exasperating but needed. She’d rather be celebrating her own victory, having the confirmation that Light Yagami is in fact Kira, her god.  
  
The god in question has unmoving eyes ensnaring him in a suffocating grasp as the owner coldly asks, “Why does Kiyomi Takada think you’re the ‘true’ Kira, Light?”  
  
“I don’t know!” he snaps, “I-I haven’t even talked to her in I don’t know how long!”  
  
“It was like…a month or two ago.” Matsuda mumbles, “We ran into her at dinner.”  
  
Rungs of trust are knocked down, Light hates the moron for speaking, it will take too long for him to regain position of L’s consort again. An unseen plot lays into place as noxious grey hues latch on deeper, “That’s right…was meeting Kiyomi planned?”  
  
“Not at all. She was celebrating her promotion.”  
  
“S-she also didn’t like Light all that much.” Matsuda pipes up, “He gave her info to me, he said I didn’t want it because he wasn’t interested.”  
  
“Or he didn't want to get caught.” L evenly adds, “She still goes to your university, correct?”  
  
“Yes, but we don’t have any classes together in person, we have one online.”

“So you’d have a method to contact her that I could possibly not trace- being the online chat rooms?”  
  
He rolls his eyes, “I barely have time to reply to my professors much less hatch a plot with Kiyomi Takada of all people. Even if I were, this conversation with Misa makes absolutely no sense! She clearly doesn’t even know who Kira is! She didn’t even specify that it was me, she just said that Misa loves Kira, right?”  
  
“Right.” L presses a finger to his lips.  
  
“For all we know she could be implying it Hideki Ryuga. Or she means it in a metaphoric sense.”  
  
“What do you think she means? Give me your evaluation of what she said.”  
 _  
‘Damn you.’_ he grits his teeth, spitting out the deduction of, “It sounds like she’s suspecting Misa’s ex. Me.”  
  
“Which is rather impressive of Miss Takada having reached this conclusion to herself.”  
  
“But.” Light adds, “What is most concerning than swinging blame on me _again_ , is that if you read between the lines it also sounds like she’s in contact with the Third Kira.”  
  
“Whoa! That’s a big jump, Light!” Matsuda cheers.  
  
“It makes sense to me.” Light pushes.  
  
“If you’re Kira, yes, it does make perfect sense.”  
  
“Ryuzaki…” his fist trembles, damn it all, he’ll deck him again, he doesn’t care. It’s unlikely they’ll share a bed or fuck anytime soon, may as well get out some pent up aggravation. Opting to avoid the mans’ still healing face, he goes for a fistful of the trademark white crewneck, hoisting them too close for anyone’s easement, “You need to stop thinking of me as Kira.” he growls, “This provides context of the Third and First Kira being the same person. Which is it very evident that the Third is not me.”  
  
“I am almost certain the First is you.”  
  
“Or I was being controlled by the First as a decoy? Has that ever crossed your mind?!”  
  
“It’s too…convenient for you.”  
  
“No! It’s inconvenient for you, L!” he snarls, drawing up a pained performance, “How long are we going to keep at this until you admit you were wrong?!”  
  
"Until I am entirely certain. And your defensiveness is only worsening your case from my perspective.”  
  
“You bastard!” he impulsively slams a fist into L’s cheek to earn a reflective foot into his stomach tearing all air from his lungs.  
  
Coughing and sputtering his hand opens from the cloth in it, crumpling to the floor holding his torso coughing up some blood. Honestly he's impressed, a little turned on and once again too aware of his father in the room as familiar lace-up loafers blur his vision, “Both of you! Enough!” large hands cup Light’s shoulders, concern rips a paternal expression as he whips out a cloth handkerchief from his pocket, using it to blot the blood at his son’s mouth, “I have half a mind to propose Light leave this case to allow a clearer view for you, Ryuzaki. But I know you’d expend more time virtually stalking him than on the case, so he being here in person is less hassle if you two will keep your hands off of each other!” ,he helps the wounded to sit at one of the couches in the lounge, “I propose a new rule for the task force: you stay as far away from my son as possible. Keep your taking strictly on the case. If you have information regarding his guilt, you can present it to Mogi, Matsuda, Watari and I to avoid additional conflicts. Should any findings need to be confirmed, denied or explored further Mogi, Matsuda, Watari or I can interrogate Light.”  
  
“Dad-”

“Not another word. I will not keep standing by watching this any longer. This behavior is extremely unprofessional, I don't care if this is a high profile case and can lend extreme emotions. As I see it, this is the best suggestion to maintain peace within our task force. If we cannot maintain this much professionalism and propriety while investigating then we are as good as disbanded. I am asserting my authority as previous acting chief. Need I remind you, Aizawa, Ide and I are the only acting police officers that are on your side, L. This senseless fighting is how we lost two task members, it must cease.”  
  
The chief has multiple wonderful points, most of which deplete L’s pride. He wobbles to stand, “I agree with all propositions made minus the proximity limitations between your son and I. It will be too annoying to have him minding a physical line of avoidance to me. After all, the case aside, I do revere him as a friend.”  
  
Uncertainly colors the chef’s expression.  
  
“Perhaps we should spend time outside of the case to ease tensions in order to allow a calmer workplace?” He raises a brow to the college student gingerly massaging his bruising torso, “How about it, Light? Friendship building outside of the case?”  
  
“Why?” He groans, “So you can stack up everyday tasks as evidence against me?”  
  
“No. So we can work better to solve this case together.” he sighs, “…perhaps you do have a point in my narrow-mindedness. But…”

“Yeah, you can’t eliminate the full possibly of my being Kira. I got that.”  
  
“Well?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Do you accept?”  
  
Visions of their previous ‘friendship building exercises’ flit across his memories. _‘Is this is your bizarre method of public justification to fuck me? If so, we should’ve been fighting long before now, it would’ve been easier. But the lockdown would’ve been more fun, exciting if you ask me. Sure, Ryuzaki, L, I know you’re playing on another motive here. These others are too stupid to see it. Although…Dad still isn’t buying it.’_ He readjusts on the couch, “Fine. What’re you going to do? Go to college with me again?”  
  
“Precisely.”  
 _  
'Ah. There it is. He wants to talk to Kiyomi, the bastard could care less about friendship. Go pretend to intern at NHN instead.’_ That marginally hurt, but it would be refreshing to get out of the task force building. It could also offer chances to get his name or face to Mikami, if he could get Mikami to see L’s face, it would be the end of his troubles or at the very least he’d have the insurance of ending his foe’s life if he became too dangerous. _‘Once again, you’re oh-so-careful steps are treading you further into my trap. Well done, L.’  
  
_ —-

  
Doing this in a gas station bathroom in Chisinau was not how he pictured it. He had never pictured it at all it was never on the table or a possibility until they were spotted by an undercover agent for some affluent family in Odessa. Thankfully the worst of it was them being tailed to the bus station, they lost the asshole in a crowded train. It was his own idea at least to do this, but as he smears the inky black chemical slop into natural pale gold he realizes how much it was valued as it literally dies.  
  
Matt opted for a beanie, but Mello’s hair was too long and he couldn’t bring himself to cut it.  
  
Smearing the last of the regret into his scalp he mourns his reflection in a grime-decorated portal while the peeps of the video game between his partner’s hands who now casually ‘chills’ on the toilet chews on his seventh stick of gum in thirty minutes. Opting to sit on the floor to wait the rough forty minutes of setting time he opens the laptop, they have successfully gutted it of all its contents salvageable. It’s more or less a glorified e-reader at this point with highly illegal books.  
  
Clicking through the downloads and folders he gathers the mission Near was tasked with, watching hours of surveillance footage of a high schooler named Light Yagami. According to records the whole family was under watch but the boy was of particular interest along with the instructions for the prick to be on the lookout for…suspicious paper? Most of the footage didn’t survive the convoluted transferring process aside from a few clips showing an unimpressive daily routine of Light undressing form his school uniform to pedestrian clothing for studying. Too many of the files were pertaining to cases not relevant to the Kira Case since L’s attention is predominately dedicated to that leaving pocket mysteries to be shouldered off to Near. Almost all of them are childishly simple, he’s deeply offended that not one had made its way to Mello’s attention for at least an exercise. He steels himself to not be overcome with hatred, paging through other documents like Light’s school schedule, the address and information of his cram school, what seemed to be his entire medical records, credit card history, banking transactions and innocent remarks made by an FBI agent sent to monitor the Yagami household.  
  
There was a sizable file for another individual named Misa Amane consisting of broadcast tapes of the Second Kira, modeling portfolios, news articles of her family’s murder as well as conclusive statements sent to Roger via Watari more or less clearing her of execution but not speculation. It’s very clear that these are suspects to the case, but both did not have enough evidence to provide a solid conclusion. Recorded broadcasts from NHN and Sakura TV were on standby for Near and some footage of Light Yagami and Misa Amane in custody were going to be sent according to a note on one file, but did not reach the device before their tampering. Aside from a few word documents belonging to Roger with coded notes disguised as observation logs for the infants at Wammy’s, that was all they got. Unwrapping a chocolate bar from the aisles of their hiding place he ignores the sting of chemicals rewriting his scalp while he mentally compartmentalizes the case thus far.  
  
Snapping into the semi-frozen bar due to the place’s lacking heater, he thoughtfully chews while shrugging on a stolen mink lined coat, _‘It’s pretty evident that Light Yagami and Misa Amane are of concern regarding the case…I’d bet Light is of higher suspicion due to Near being asked to evaluate such boring footage. If the loser found anything who knows…should something be found could the case close?’_ he pries open his burner phone, scrolling through the internet researching criminal deaths, _‘The executions are still worldwide however, I’m sure L is still in Japan since he thinks Kira is still there. But is Kira there? L mentioned that he may be hiding there but wouldn't it make sense for Kira to run when L arrives?’_ Taking another bite he mulls it over, _‘No…Kira stood his ground against L. The media is more or less starting to talk about the country like its ‘holy land’ because it's housing the ‘birth of a new god’ according to radicalists.’_  
  
Being outside of the plush confines of the orphanage opened his and Matt’s eyes to the impact the faceless divinity. The media coverage alone is overwhelming with the technological tennis match between the argument of the benefit and morality of Kira. Overall response is positive, people support the omnipotent judgements while others are outraged by injustice against the value of human life. Some think that wrongdoers or not, it is not up to some unknown person forcing an ideology on the masses. Those people tend to hide behind anonymous commentary online or propaganda littered anywhere allowed. Staring out bus windows in the glimpse of neighborhood areas Mello was shocked to see signs like those during elections voicing support or disapproval of Kira. In crowds they would catch memorabilia ranging from shirts, keychains and even tattoos revering the name. Changing trains there was an advertisement for an upcoming Kira Church being built in Moscow, encouraging people to come worship and encourage their savior to step from the shadows to assume his power.  
 _  
‘I could care less about if Kira is good or bad. I just want L relived of the case.’_ Mello zips up the coat and repacks their belongings, _‘He’s clearly a human with a strange ability. And if he is a god, then how great is he if humans can overtake him? If L can overtake him?’ a sinking dread rests in his intuition, “…can L overtake him? Those high society fuckers are very involved, unsurprising since all of this bullshit swings in their favor. From what I can tell in Roger’s dumb baby notes, it looks like L traveled extensively in the middle of the Kira investigation.’_ the final break of chocolate ends the candy bar, _‘If he does win would he just loose? Damn…’_ he is repulsed by his thoughts on a cellular level, _‘…we’re going to need to build our own army of sorts to secure a net of victory when this psycho is brought to justice. That would require a lot of manipulation of the unseen societies, establishing unbreakable bonds with people who can be purchased with something as stupid as money. The only person I know who could start to do this…is…’_ he wants to vomit, _‘Near.’  
_  
Time’s up for his hair. Stripping down to his jeans, he rips open a grocery bag he works it over his head and around his shoulders to protect his skin. The cheerful tinkering of the game goes quiet. Gentle, limber fingers gently press to his naked back, the only form of security in his peripheral.  
  
“Let me. Washing that out is going to be a bitch.” Matt offers softly.  
  
Mello always had a hunch that Matt had feelings of him outside of their friendship. In these recent days of exhaustion, those thoughts have been increasingly confirmed. Stooping over the sink he does his best to alternate breathing through his nose and mouth as apt hands massage the dye out of his hair. He permits a lone few moments of ignorance as the enjoyment of short nails grinding obscure patterns into his scalp relaxes him. They have never washed each other’s hair. It’s uniquely intimate.  
  
Using a shampoo sample from a fashion magazine, Mello’s hair is cleaned to the best of their abilities. Matt guides the newfound black haired runaway under the hand drier, furiously tousling inky locks in lukewarm heat until it’s mostly dried. Standing up, the mastermind grimaces at his reflection, strands of still airing hair wrinkling in wavy lines. He hastily shoves himself back into the multitude of layers, shrugging on his backpack, “Well. At least I don’t look like myself.”  
  
Matt smirks, “I think it’s kinda hot.”  
  
“Of course you do.”   
  
“Look man, I’m just trying to be supportive. I know it was a hard choice for you.” He sniffs as they finally exit the bathroom, a very angry man desperately throws himself inside, “It’s not a bad look. I do prefer the blond, but I got a thing for them, so…biased opinion.”  
  
“You sound super gay right now.” Mello grumbles, “You’re lucky you can just throw on a beanie and push your bangs under it to look like a different person.”  
  
“Could’ve done a hat too.”  
  
“No, since we’re going to China for while, the blond hair had to go.”  
  
“Yeah…you’d stand out like a sore thumb.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
They continue to the bus stop in silence. Matt does his best to sneak sidelong glances at his comrade, soaking in the teen’s fresh aesthetic. He’s always dressed in black but the sunshine hair counteracted those choices, now he seems angrier, broodier and defiantly sexier. Nervously chewing on the inside of his lip he craves a cigarette. Maybe backing off on the compliments would be in his best interest. Sure, he left Wammy’s for Mello to help Mello, but he also hoped this would turn out like the movies and be a wild, crazy ride of sex, guns and hacker adventures. Instead this has been one stress after another, he wasn’t prepared for his own breakdown on the plane nor was he for Mello’s in the bathroom this morning. The world once presented as a vast, limitless explorative stage ready for whatever they may throw at it. But as they dig deeper into the invisible trench warfare of an imaginary battle, the world is a very limited blackbox theatre not equipped or wanting their extravagance for righteousness, or justice. Their audience, once nameless faces are world leaders, secretive shadows fueled by dollar signs all dictated by a puppeteer- Kira’s hands in the form of the ramping killings, religious assimilation or vague wavering of world powers.  
  
Each step they’ve taken has felt like the splitting choice of no return, this one is no different. Mello loosing his blond hair, something Matt has dreamt of combing with his fingers or pressing his lips to is gone. He theorizes that the cosmetic mask is needed, either it is an homage to what L supposedly looks like, or to B, a declaration of change. Unlike B who was driven mad by lust for L in every sense of the word, Mello is a misunderstood decibel but also a willing a ready weapon.  
  
Arriving to the bus station they wait, Matt tries to find its schedule on one of their many disposable phones while Mello steels himself to punch in the numbers for Roger’s office, betting that Near would be somewhere close. Heart pounding in his chest he grits his teeth, wanting to curse when he hears Roger’s voice answer, “Hello?”  
  
“Tell Near to gather an army for L. This situation is worse than we thought. Even if L wins against Kira, we’ll just loose him to the world.”  
  
“Mello?! Wait, please stay on the line-”  
  
“Get the message to Near. Get him involved. Goodbye.” wrenching the phone in a twisting motion he rips it in half, the elderly woman waiting beside them takes an unassuming shuffled step away.  
  
Near heard it all laying unseen on his favorite rug in the office. A robot poised mid-fight with a velociraptor lowers to his chest, his stare turns to the ceiling as Roger mutters to him guessing that the boy was listening in. The whirring mechanisms in his mind kick into gear as he smiles at the crown molding, ‘Mello…you certainly know how to keep things interesting.’  
  
“I don’t know what he’s talking about…” Roger growls as he punches in the speed dial for Watari’s number, “You are not to get involved, Near, do you hear me? When he's insinuating has already been started on L’s behalf. Whoever he's planning is…”  
  
“Fascinating.” Near sits up, mischief coloring his face, “I find it extraordinary that he’s reached out to me.”  
  
“Extraordinary or not, for your safety, you are to follow instruction from L, not Mel-” the line picks up, “Hello, it’s me. Mello made contact…”  
  
Near drowns out the chatter, falling into the piling curiosity of what is being planned and where he best fits into this puzzle. Upon a deeper introspection the pieces crash to a metaphoric ground, revealing smaller shards proving that there is an ever sprawling web of convoluted complications. There is no place for any of them he concludes for the time being, only a meticulous methodology of maneuvering around poisonous glass revealing crooked refractions. No one is flushing a hand giving implication of the smallest lick of verifiable information outside of theoretics and that enthralls him to no end.   
  
—-

He’s never been one for redundant, stupid plans but this case has escalated to means no less than supernumerary. It is now to a point of treading on glass less than an inch thick, it is a breaths difference between life or death and he is starting to suffocate. Unsure of the definitively of Light’s place in all of this mess, be it a lovesick stagnant frustration co-investigator or shadowed puppet master he’s itching to discover. The only way to find out is to be Light Yagami.  
  
Their love games revealed less than wished, he mulled the idea of begging for a spot in Light’s bedroom once more to execute this scheme, but instead opted for a payout for a joke accidentally placed. Seeing the flustered reaction replays in his mind as he nervously settles into the rented restaurant table eagerly awaiting his guest. It was a day’s time since their little spat, during which he laid his trap now he rests waiting to reap the outcome- or at least a fraction of that payback. Something in him broke ever so delicately when conversing with Misa checking in about the status of the strange Kira musical career. One discussion derailed into another resulting in the wreck that was her ranting about how much she ‘detests the idea of [his] gross ass with [her] beloved Light, but if he was going to go on a date,’ which he insisted it was not, he wasn’t entirely certain how she got that information out of him in the first place and made a literal note to Watari to keep her in mind for criminal rehabilitation and recruiting should they both live through this, Misa is insipidly cunning, ‘that [he] may as well dress up for the occasion!’  
  
The idea clenched his stomach as she screeched on about the abhorrent state of his physicality. He medicated in a dissociative manner while keeping the phone parted from his ear as she cawed, “L!”  
  
“Ryuzaki. Now more than ever with your surveillance.”  
  
“I’m in the bathtub, bet you like that info huh, pervert? No one is going to hear me.”  
  
He did sort of enjoy the idea of her naked, but shoved that away. Her lacking textbook intelligence was too much of a turnoff.  
  
“I was dying to do this while living in the task force, you need a makeover if you’re on some weird seduction mission with Light. Put your bony ass in a suit, maybe a big boy’s size would fit you? I know of some shops!”  
  
“Misa I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it is not what you think-”  
  
“I could totally get something sent to you, like, ASAP. Like I told Kiyomi earlier, I’m sure you heard, I’m pretty much god now. I so much as think it and it’s mine! I can get a nice suit to you.”  
  
“Yes, and that will be very traceable to me. I can get my own clothing just fine.”  
  
“Nuh-uh. I don’t trust you. I want only the best for my Light, I’m sending only the best to my friend, who is only temporarily allowed to do anything with him.”  
  
“All things considered, I’m shocked you’re so calm about this.” he could hear water sloshing then soft padding of wet feet on tile, “I figured you’d be livid.”  
  
“Honestly, I’d rather it be you than Kiyomi.” Misa sighed, the tapping of keystrokes accompanies the shifting of cloth, “There! It should arrive in an hour or so!”  
  
“Misa-”  
  
“Shut up. You let me send cake all the damn time you freak. Wear it or not, I guess I’ll never know but I hope you do.” a shuffling then the swaying shifting of water being entered fills his ear, he could see her naked form sinking into the bath of the task force from countless surveillance footage watched. If he wanted he could watch her right now, but opted against it. It felt like he was betraying her trust, which was ironic to say the least. “Take pictures if you do.” she flirtatiously exhaled into his ear.  
  
Stiffening he swallowed back the inquiring jab to question her stance of their friendship, but instead said, “You know I cannot do that.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah Mr. Mystery Man, I know, it’s a joke, geez!” the water shifted audibly, “For the meeting tomorrow, do you want me to keep calling to check in or do you want me to wait for you to contact me?”  
  
“Wait for me to call. I also think we should limit our discussions, let’s keep this to text conversation or emails. It’ll be less likely for any Kira extremists or Kiyomi’s circle to overhear you.”  
  
“Gotcha!”  
  
“Also, and I know this may be difficult for you, try to befriend Kiyomi.”  
  
He could hear her expression, “…ummm.”  
  
“It could provide immense information. Please at least try, Misa.”  
  
“Don’t you already have Aiber for that? Why do I gotta?”  
  
“Use your relationship with Light as leverage, pretend he contacted you. You can even pretend to be the Second Kira if you want. It could lead us to the real one quicker.”  
  
“Didn’t you hear the conversation today? She won’t trust me, she found your device very quickly.”  
  
“Yes…that alone is…worrisome. You have my permission to remove the devices to win her trust. Record what you can if possible on your phone as you did with the Yotsuba investigation. I trust you to make the right choice.”  
  
He could hear her smile.  
  
“…you trust me, Ryuzaki?” An airy giggle chilled his skin, “Do you think I’m smart?”  
  
“Circumstantially.”  
  
“Oh, come on! I outsmarted you plenty of times! Admit it, tell me I’m smart and maybe I’ll try to do as you say.”  
  
He groaned, “Fine. Misa Amane, you are without a doubt one of the smartest pop stars I have ever met. It is an honor, and a burden, to be working with you on this case.”

“A burden?!”  
  
“Oh come on, you didn’t expect a total display of intellectual degradation?”  
  
“You’re so funny, Ryuga.” she laughed while cutting the line.  
  
Perhaps it is the stress that gives him an odd solace in their phone calls, or it is the unexpected reclaim of his testing jab of possibly falling for her coming back to bite him in the ass. Of course a girl like Misa is shallow, she’s sweet-hearted but not the breed of person that is attached to people like him. The very idea of being naked in front of her drew his sex within his body, hypothetical nerves drilling into him as he made the orders for the reservation of a dining venue that would accommodate both he and Light’s palettes. There is little to no chance that his body, face or otherwise would be adequate enough for her, nor would his outlandish tastes, which were much more radical with women than men if one asked. However, this was even more fictitious since he has never been with a woman, these were purely ideas watched online or read from dirty pages, not at all from practical experience.  
  
She kept her promise, the suit arrived in a stiff luxury shopping bag on the front step. It was nearly found out by a returning Matsuda from a coffee run, but L’s agents were faster than the man’s feet, especially when distracted by his phone. After agreeing with the task force on the plan to test the limits of the death note’s pages, L retreated to the gift on his bed. Peeling back the perfumed tissue he lifted the thickly woven fabric from the casing, she chose a creamy beige color that read more white than yellow. Thumbing the texture of the suit he was entranced by the silken sturdiness of it, mentally complimenting Misa’s taste in the finer things. A soft knock at the door revealed two more bags, one holding an impossibly soft white long sleeved crew neck that made his own overpriced uniform look cheap and a pair of beige tone lace up sneakers. Rubbing his fingers over the shoes he’s ready to go down on one knee for her, she found a pair of shoes that are wool lined with a suppleness that didn’t bother his pediatric sensory issues.  
  
Standing in front of the mirror with the ensemble on he felt shame creep into him, not recognizing the form staring back at him. It was him, that was his face, hair, body but the clothes gave off airs of a man that looked the part of ‘world’s best’ not the pinpointed scatterbrained genius. Sucking in a lip to gnaw on he awkwardly shuffled at different angles for his reflection, showing himself the way the fabric draped off his form in the same complementary way Light’s clothing fits him or how Misa’s holds to her perfectly. He could pass as someone who deserved to be at his lover’s side, he could pass as normal if it weren't for his wild hair, bulging eyes and deep circles that were further accentuated by his deductive posture.  
  
He didn’t mean to send the photo to Misa, but he wanted the validation of his appearance. It is a bizarre sensation, waiting for a reply to either condemn or destroy his self perception of the night. Within a few minutes he got a reply in all caps reading, _‘YOU LOOK GREAT! PLS STAND UP PROPERLY AND COMB UR HAIR. THNKS! <3’_

That gave him the confidence to push on with the plan, carefully slinking out of the task force building to avoid encountering his dinner mate for the evening. Misa’s consolidation acts as a wet blanket of sorts as he bites another nail down to the quick, spitting out the slice to the floor. Surely she would be annoyed or go into an unwanted lecture if he reached out to her once more. Also there is the matter of his pride, L has worn a suit before, granted it was to Watari’s friend’s funeral, but he did it. There was also the other time he wore ‘normal’ clothing of slacks, a sweater and ‘real shoes’ on an undercover mission he assigned himself. Additionally, he would wear the tennis uniform mandated of him as an adolescent at competitions. Reciting these instances he uses them as a mantra to assure. him that the articles of clothing chosen by Misa are just that, clothing. They hold no power over him despite the roundabout cycling questioning of inquiry pondering his adequacy for Light Yagami.  
 _  
‘Will he like it? Is this too much? Am I overthinking things? Of course I am, but will this be enough to achieve what I must? Can I sway him back to my side to upkeep our manipulation of one another? What if he is telling the truth and is in love with me, if it is anyone other than him I wouldn’t care, but using Light like this…could hurt? But I see it in his eyes, he’s not Light, he’s Kira…mostly. However, I have noticed that switch being increasingly less so…I made a mistake before letting him touch the notebook and lost him. I cannot let him slip again, but has he evaded my grasp already? Only time can-’_ his ranting his silenced by the door parting, causing his gaze to whip over his shoulder to soak in the calm mask sliding off a very surprised face.  
  
Typically narrow eyes, slanted in either thought or scheming in L’s humble opinion, shift to round, disquieted complements as his mouth gapes to bluntly snap shut. Handsome features flounder in aroused panic as he grounds himself, floored that he wants to bolt out of the room. When he arrived to his room to find a driver poised outside of it like a stationed guard, he assumed L was up to one of his strange tricks, but this was the last plot on the list of contrived ideas. Blood uncomfortably pools in places it shouldn't as his stare despoils L’s forward shoved shoulders gripped by something other than a carbon copied waffle knit crewneck and jeans. This is something he didn’t know he wanted until it’s poised before him, served up like a finely prepared meal. Is this is the game tonight?  
 _  
‘This isn’t fair, L.’_ Light mentally growls, forcing his demeanor to relax gifting the other man a tender smile laced with his unapologetic lust, _‘How dare you dress like that, in an extravagant setting. I didn’t know you had a seductive bone in your body outside of the rooms we’ve shared, congratulations, I’m glad sex has given you more tools to play with. I’m eager to counteract whatever you’re throwing at me, whatever it may be, I know you aren’t outfitted for something innocent.’  
_  
Sauntering forward he pockets his hands, “So you can dress up to make good on a joke, but you can’t put on something presentable for our entrance ceremony?”  
  
He maneuvers into the seat farthest away against the wall of the rented room, the entire restaurant is rented but this felt more intimate, “That wasn’t important.”  
 _  
'Smooth, you’re learning well.’_ Light complements, claiming the vacant spot in front of his host, “I see…” he settles into the chair, casually propping himself towards the other, “…you look good.”  
  
That struck a nerve. A skittish smile threatens L’s features as his dark eyes focus on the floor to then sternly force a connection between them, the invisible flame erupting ferociously. Inhaling to summon some distribution of himself only seen when the man across him is usually naked and bound in a hidden room he strokes his bottom lip with a finger, “I got this for you. I’m glad it meets your standards.”  
  
An interested brow raises, “For me? There must be more to this occasion then.”  
  
“Yes, this is my…apology to you.”  
  
“I’d ask what for, but you have quite the list.”  
  
“It’s a relatively short list in comparison to my other sins.” he lowers a hand, gathering more assurance, “Let this be a night or repentance.”  
  
“Hey, relax. I appreciate it, but you don’t need to act like you…worship me or something.”  
  
“Would you like that?” he whispers, “If I worshipped you?”  
  
Tightness grips Light’s throat abashedly, “Are you feeling alright, Ryuzaki?”  
  
“It’s L.”  
 _  
‘What the hell are you trying at?’_ he internally demands, _‘This isn’t like you.’  
_ _  
'Is he suspicious of me?’_ L places an index finger in his mouth, _‘Perhaps I should reel this in.’_ Discarding the attempted sexual persona he clears his throat, watching as the hired waiter enters to pour their waters and places an already ordered coffee beside L. “Sorry.” he mutters when the man leaves, “I’m…trying.”  
  
“To do what?”  
  
“Win you back?” he shrugs, damning himself for trying to be something other than what Light claims to have desired in the first place, “Is that even applicable in our context?”  
 _  
'Are you acting? I cannot tell…maybe he’s trying to distract me from something. He was gone for a large portion of this afternoon apparently conversing with Misa, which has to be kept to L and her due to my presence being a distraction. The task force doesn’t seem to mind, but even they saw something in how he shouldered the proposition of the death note page experiment to me of all people. Maybe there’s something going on with Misa, maybe he’s found out her connection to Mikami? Or something with Takada? He hasn’t reacted as I thought he would with her relaying the possibility of me being Kira to Misa…which is rather dangerous on her behalf. I’d kill her but that would be stupid she doesn’t know anything about me or Kira or the death notes. It’s likely speculation. But that doesn’t justify any of this making sense…a secluded dinner, dressing up, this isn’t L’s style…or perhaps it is? I’ve never known him to this degree…’_ excitement rings throughout him, _‘Could I have finally started chipping into him? Is he falling for me?’_ he wants to grin wickedly, the fantasies of L bending to his whims as Misa and Mikami do elate him. _‘The world is already kneeling for me. You’ll do so one way or another. Let’s assume you stop accusing me, would you still want me knowing who I am? Making you see the glory that Kira can offer could be another viable tactic. It will be easier for us both if you submit to me, all of me, out of honest devotion and understanding, so we can be together as equals, not as one cornered to my side. I want you as a willing equivalent.’_ L shifts discouragingly drawing Light from his lecture, evoking the side of him painfully preferred by this partner. He offers a shy exhale as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Look, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the extravagance of what you’re doing here but it’s not necessary. You just openly saying sorry is more than enough for me. I just need you to understand my side of the argument, to at least acknowledge and respect that your recklessness with the death note upsets me,” he can see that egregious mouth open and cuts it off before it can muster a sound, “,not because I’m Kira. But because I love you. I really, truly love you.”  
 _  
‘I hate it when you say that.’_ L curses, “You don’t even know me.”  
  
“I know you better than anyone. I know you don’t like opulent displays like this, but you’re an asshole and enjoy showing off. You’re mad that I’m mad at you, you’re aggravated to a newfound degree over this case. But even though you hate Kira, and you hate all of the killings, and riots, and watching the world turn in a different direction I can tell this thrills you. I can see that you’ve surrendered yourself to this case. We can both see that it’ll likely be your last if this continues for much longer.” honeyed brown hues glisten with false pain, “Can we cease this fighting? How can we help the world when we cannot even help ourselves?”  
 _  
‘It would be a great injustice but also immense checkmate to have that tongue torn from your mouth, Light Yagami…Kira.’_ L scorns, having to calm himself behind a few deep drinks of coffee, _‘Truly you are my equal, my other half, reading me so transparently.’  
_  
“You’ve been hurt, you don’t trust. And I’ll admit, I was likely Kira at some point or another.”  
  
L’s eyes practically pop out of his head.  
  
“But I’m not anymore…at least…” he steels his nerves, _‘Let’s see how you handle this one, L.’_ Meeting a gaping, vacuuming demanding he concludes with, “…I don’t think so. If you ask me, I think Kira, whatever it is, is a spirit of sorts that transfers between people.”  
  
“No. We know that Kira is an unfortunate human with a killer notebook.” he’s fairly disappointed in the direction of the evening’s conversation, but pushes on, ‘At least you can own to some capacity of Kira’s wrongdoings…’  
  
“Actually, I think the notebook possesses people.” he gazes at L through his lashes, “I’m sure you’d find that notion absurd.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Think on it, what if the longer someone is around it or uses it that is when the possession takes hold? What if the death note is a medium tool for the Shinigami to control us? It’s very evident that they value it over their own lives, which is why I assume the one at Higuchi’s arrest died.”  
 _  
‘Very curious.’_ he leans closer, “Some think it went back to its world, why do you think the creature died?”  
  
“It’s a theory, we don’t know enough about the things to tell, but yeah. It left its notebook, I think it died.”  
  
“Or maybe, following your idea, that the being left it for us to use? Perhaps it was tossing in another layer of chaos?”  
“Another thought for you, there is some sort of required chain of cycling of when a notebook user dies or may be caught that the Shinigami does what we saw that one do?”  
  
“Kill itself to preserve the notebook?”  
  
“The notebook and its secrets, sure. Makes sense to me. After all, since Kira’s overuse of it, had you ever encountered such a case before? I’m sure of all people you are the one with the highest probability of ever running into another notebook in the past.”  
  
L had thought of that to the point of insanity. Instead of going down an abyss of speculative retrospection, he kept the concept as a possible puzzle piece of any unsolved cases still floating about, of course none of which belonged to him. Besides, with the functionality of the notebook, it would likely be impossible to prove its involvement.  
  
“To my knowledge, none of my cases have appeared to have fit the profile of the notebook’s involvement. Even still, it would be difficult to tell.”  
  
“Precisely.” Light grins,, his features illuminating with passion, a flare of the innocent person the detective so deeply loves, “Now think of this: let’s so a pretend social experiment here.”  
  
“Okay.” he inches closer, watching eloquently animated hands, the dim fixtures catching glints off the heft watch on a slender wrist.  
  
“Suppose the notebook possesses the users, that prolonged exposure increases the user’s connection and lessens their humanity, maybe it even connects them to the shinigami, but we won’t get too deep into concepts like that right now…let’s start with a cycle of which it starts with the notebook appearing or being gifted by the shinigami, a human uses it, to what degree that could be up to the person or the death god, and they keep it in possession until the cycle ends with the shinigami killing the user by some sort of expiration or consequence, like the Higuchi, leaving their own to prolong the disorder or to add in the possibility of more interference. What if they are supposed to be here for a purpose? What if these cycles exist because there are events meant to be incited by people, not the supernatural? That they gift these notebooks to let humans run a predetermined course? Thinking in this manner, could large killings of our past be linked to death notes? What if people have written our own fates? Maybe this is some sort of divine test? I don't think in quite…simplistic terms, but ti could be worth entertaining.” he lifts his water to his lips, savoring its fresh taste, “We may have to surround to the idea that this could be beyond our understanding, L. I’ll chase the truth until my last breath, but I won't be ignorant about it.”  
 _  
‘What a backwards, daedalian, proposition.’_ L chides, _‘Do you really think that I'd buy this…? No, this seems too…meticulous, he's been thinking on this for awhile. It does appear outlandish, which is why he hasn't brought this up in front of the others. Viewing this with the consideration of you being Kira, maybe you're trying to tell me something, slip some information to maintain an interesting game, or this could be opposite of the actuality of the notebook's pursue and you're saying this to throw me off in another direction entirely. My intuition says otherwise…you have given me clues here, but for what purpose?’_ a terminal thought pierces him, _‘What if we consider all variables…which would deliver the solution of…’_ ,denial scream for him to not reach this conclusion, _‘Kira is in love with me. Kira values me. Kira wants me for something more than my demise.’_ The disgusting elation wondering where in that promised land the worshippers have contrived for themselves does L have a place? Pardoned by some ungodly affection be it for L or the real man underneath the title, where does Kira wish for him to stand? Where is he most valuable? ‘If both Light Yagami and Kira are in love with me, as L or otherwise, should the tables collapse in this manner, feigning allegiance to them could guarantee my life, my prosperity to overtake this great evil in extending warfare. He is painfully correct, no outcome be it positive or negative do I emerge accepting another case.’  
  
"What have you realized?” Light lovingly inquires,“I can tell you disagree with a lot of what I said.”  
  
“I can neither agree or disagree, like you painted out previously, there are too many unknowns pertaining to the notebook. The best weapon we have against it is our minds, your of which is my greatest ally." he shyly smiles, “You theory has arguable points, how do you reason it's lacking corruptive behaviors in our custody?"  
  
"It's locked in a safe. No one is around it. How could it wield its powers?”  
  
"True, but I used it, I feel just fine, not at all murderous.”  
  
“Strange…didn't you kill a man using it?”  
  
L is instantaneously cold, frigid even.  
  
“The idea you had to test it…” he presses his lips into a worried line, internally he's laughing to the point of a hoarse throat, “That came after we had it in our possession, didn't it?”  
 _  
'Is this your sick way of telling me the true evils of the death note?’_ he vexes, _‘Are you still under this prophetic control, Light? Kira? This sounds like Kira…’  
_  
"It did, however I have used extreme measures such as that in the past. This isn't new behavior for me."  
  
“To tag onto my theories, the notebook found its way to someone capable of murder. Very interesting indeed. Wouldn't you say, L?”  
  
His words do not settle well, when he got dressed up for this evening he was hoping for pleasant conversational banter, to maybe end the night with a kiss or heated sex on the table, maybe in the back of the car, not feeling as if the label of Kira is starting to heat his skin with an impending ironing brand. With cards gliding between his fingers at an alarming rate he cannot afford to give the smallest indication of being perturbed. Hooking his resolve into himself he is gracious for the waiter bringing in their first course, for Light it is some popular dish selected by the chef upon review of L reciting foods the other likes, for the one with a more limited palette it is a fruit and cream appetizer.  
  
The plates clink on the tabletop signaling for him to speak, “I'd say everyone is capable, it falling into my custody and me using it to perform an execution that was scheduled irregardless of my interference is not the same as someone abusing its abilities. But that is a rather interesting con-"  
  
"You didn't' have to use it.” Light insists, L has already almost finished his beginning meal, the one across from him hasn't so much as noticed the minuscule meal presented, “Our team agreed to proceed as if the rule had been disproven. You, or perhaps, the notebook made the choice to actually take a life to prove a point. Which brings me to a question I've been wanting to ask you for months now…” he expertly slices into a thin piece of cooked waterfowl animal, “…why do you do this?"  
  
"Because I want to win, I want to maintain order."  
  
“To what means? To preserve humanity? Human life?"  
  
The honest answer is cruel, _‘Because I’m bored, these are puzzles that give me purpose. Without them I feel..absolute. The empathy I have enjoys the reward of saving lives however, being unbeaten by sickening minds is the high I ride case by case. Not only this but, unwanted privilege was pushed unto me, a title with great burden was assumed by what I chose to do in order to resolve a mental doldrum. I don't know if I even care about the lives outside of it being a rule to the game I've played for so long, my morals are grey. If I don't know the person, I don't really care. If the death is gruesome I can project it to people I care for, which adds an edge to the stakes of resolving a problem. At the root of it all, I don't care about people, I care about my own issues of which happens to be sated by saving lives. It's been said by my own mouth , I am not that different from Kira, but I am also Kira's opposite. He's rather dark this evening, I wonder if he is Kira if he's feeling pressured, or if he's just Light if he's trying to shove the Kira guilt to me to make me understand the stress I constantly impose on him. I wonder…'_  
  
Swiping a fingertip’s portion of remaining cream on the newly barren plate he suckles on it in contemplation, "I have my reasons, none of which align to Kira's, if that is what you are implying.”  
  
"I think they match up more than you'd like to admit, L. Kira just goes about it in a more blunt way. That frustrates you but it also arouses you mentally…” he smirks behind the last mouthful of food, “...physically?"  
  
He wants to vomit.

“You have sex with me with the assumption of me being Kira.” his tone is gentler, painful, “Each time we fucked you were probably wondering if you were with me or Kira weren’t you? I thought of that too, but not if I am him, because I’m not, but I have driven myself practically insane wondering who you want more, me or Kira? If you only are pursuing me because you think there’s something for you to gain. Pardon my blatant speaking, but I feel like our intimacy, this place, allows us to be something more than what we are locked in the task force building. I feel like I can be a person to you here, in our rooms…and while I do also miss you, crave you more than I’d ever admit I find it difficult to accept the show you’re putting on, the words you’ve said when your actions so rudely say otherwise.” he conjures the performance of wounded lover, happily digging in all of the knives he has into L, “I can endure your cruelty for only so long.”  
  
What beautifully spoken, elegant lies. Within those words there are glimpses of the authentic person trapped behind layers of deceit. More than ever he wants to hold his face, place kisses all over his face until a smile is procured while he tangles his hands into silken locks holding a little too much hair product. He wants to curl into that chest to gulp down lungful after lungful of the cologne scent that maddens him every time they are too close or pass by one another. Remembrances of their crazed nights keep him up more than his insomnia could ever hope to, he’s ashamedly touched himself watching Light on his computer screen with that stolen button up wrapped around his shoulders. He’s drowning in countless damning emotions he thought himself above, hating that betrayal is the one burning deep in him at the buzz of a confirmation to the plan being completed by Watari. It’s happened quicker than anticipated. He very well could’ve done this less gloriously but he wanted an excuse to try to coax Light back to him, if anything so he could put out this pent up frustration. Now that cursed mouth is spewing nonsense, incoherent bullshit that’s done more damage than acceptable.  
  
“If I am so awful you should be kinder to yourself and not humor me.”  
  
“You know I cannot do that.” he grins, “How I breathe is under scrutiny. I may as well confess myself a liar, it’d be easier for you wouldn’t it? If I just went out and said it?” the sparkle in L’s eye pisses him off to the highest degree, his fist slams into the table, he jeers forwards, “Why do you look pleased by that?! Even if I said it, what you want me to, it’d be a lie! All it would do is satisfy your fetish for being right! What will it take for you to see me?” he transmutes fury into fabricated tears rimming his eyes, “Look at me like I’m Light Yagami! Look at me like I’m not someone else when you kiss me, fuck me…” his breath hitches, “…do you want me?”  
  
His chest is breaking, “Of course I want you.”  
  
“Who?” he hisses, “Kira? Does that get you off, L? To think that you’re fucking a murderer?”  
  
“Not at all.” that was a lie, he likes risky gambling, getting into bed with Light is perhaps his worst one yet, “I was worried something like this may happen if we did this. I should’ve not allowed a sexual relationship between us. I apologize for-”  
  
“Fuck you!” he impulsively props to his feet, acting off the raw emotions always capped off, “Stop taking like that! We did that together you bastard!” his movements carry him across the table, wrenching L out of his seat holding him by his new little getup, “Answer the damn question. Do you want me or Kira?”  
 _  
'I don’t think he’s acting…this seems too irrational for him. I can’t image how much I aggravate someone who has never had an issue wooing lovers and to add the very serious consequences of who I think he actually is. Maybe there is something to be learnt here, I cannot keep admitting to him that I think he’s Kira. Perhaps this case can progress farther using the same terrible tactics I fear he may be utilizing. The best case scenario could be that our supposed acts could be revealed to not be what we think they are. It is doubtful, the probability of him being innocent. In order to prove that acting like he is may finally give me my answer.’_ Resolving to a new plan he places hesitant hands atop Light’s, giving them a firm squeeze, “I understand your questions now. I see that my actions have genuinely harmed you…I’m not good with this…people.” he feels degraded once more greeted with the reality as to why he does not do his own undercover work to this extent, “I want you. Not just as a consult for this case, but as a person. You are incredibly valuable to me. You, Light Yagami, not Kira. I don’t need to say it aloud but we are equally matched. I’ve had another like that, and it ended poorly. It is difficult for me to accept that you may want to pursue me without another motive, and the same goes for my own mindset as well.”  
  
“You pursued me with a motive?” he frowns, fists curl tighter, “You would hurt me?!”  
  
“I would hurt Kira, yes. If that happens to be you, then yes, if not, then no.”  
  
The room flies past him as his back abruptly meets the wall, clamoring into plastic foliage. Grunting he struggles against the hands pinning him in place, hating how close their faces are, embarrassed by how much this was starting to turn him on. It’s been much too long since Light’s hands have been on him and they’re alone. He wonders if he’ll be hit again.  
  
“You’d do that? You’d use me like that?” his voice is a strained whisper.  
  
“You’ve known that about me. Don’t act surprised.”  
  
“I’m not acting!” he shouts, rutting the man into the wall again, “How much of this has been fake?!”  
  
“Light…”  
  
“What?” he laughs, “You think fucking Kira would give you a lead?! That’s so messed up, L! I told you I loved you before we ever did anything-” his arm trembles as it does seconds before it typically slams a ballad hand into the detective’s face, “Was all of this apart of your oh-so-great act?!”  
  
“No.” another lie, he regrets each one but would rather apologize to an entirely innocent Light Yagami than a potentially guilty Kira.  
  
“What then?!”  
  
“I did it for you. I wanted to apologize. I’ve never had…whatever we have, and wanted to use our skirmish yesterday as an excuse to take you on a date. But evidently my behavior has just caused constant paranoia for you. I assure you there is nothing malicious occurring here. I simply wanted to have dinner with you.”  
  
 _‘I can’t tell if he’s lying or not…but it does appear that he’s giving an honest effort to be more…romantic? Is that what this is? His attempt of romance? I should give into it, he’s likely doing someone behind my back but it’s clear what hand he’s going to deal me, and I can give that right back. While I don’t regret it, sex has made this much more complicated between us. It’ll either give me an immense advantage or create more problems than it may be worth.’_ Allowing his body to relax he carefully releases his grip, smoothing out the wrinkles of the suit. It is very nice, it fits him extremely well, reminding Light a little bit of wedding attire, mentally ridiculing the juxtaposition of L at an altar. This close to him he can tell that their proximity is rising their always tumultuous sexual tension. He still wants to wait, wondering if he can have the most powerful mind begging in supplication for their inevitable reunion. Tracing the fading crease he calculates a softening composure, “You know if you wanted to take me out on a date, what you were trying for is a date by the way, proper etiquette if you’re wanting a surprise outing is to come get me yourself.”  
  
Thankful to have one less bruise to join the collection on his face and that they’re once again settling into the contrived comfort he lets himself enjoy the touch, “I thought about it, but didn’t think you’d come.”  
  
“Really? I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought.” he smiles, inching closer to place both palms against the other’s chest, “Actually, I think you’re right. I wouldn’t have gone to dinner with you.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
He hums in confirmation, “With you dressed like this? Not a chance."  
  
A deep plummet yanks his stomach out of existence “Oh.”  
  
Light stoops lower, caught in the web of the scent he’s been yearning for, giving himself a reward of his mouth speaking against L’s neck, “We wouldn’t get to dinner. I’d be much too occupied with a different delicacy.” Taking the foreplay to a dangerous place he maneuvers his hands to encircle a familiar narrow waist and hips, “I’d drag you into my room so quickly you couldn't even ask me. This looks incredible on you…it’s unfair that I’m still mad at you. I’d fuck you here and now.”  
  
As always, Light outdoes himself in rattling L senseless, a whirring internalized composition of stalled, stirring reactions arching into every hold given to him. Breathing is difficult, the way he gasps while speaking he isn’t certain if he’s doing that even, “Light. You can fuck me when you’re mad. I don’t mind."  
  
He retracts enough so that he’s barring down at the man caught to drag the back of his fingers down the side of a carved face, “When I fuck you, and I will, I want to be nothing but in love with you. I want you to also be devoted to me. You may not understand it but that’s what I want."  
  
“What are you looking for? A love confession?”  
  
“No.” his smile is impossibly warm, it coaxes L’s arms to warp around the frame he’s desperately missed, “I want to have sex with you. I don’t want to fuck you. I want more than just your body if you’ll give it to me.”  
  
“I don’t know if I’m capable of that.”  
  
“I know you are.” he places a gentle kiss to quivering lips, sighing into the devastating pleasure their togetherness brings. Hating to stop the languid momentum he murmurs, “I’ve seen it. You’re worthy of love, L. I would like to show you that, but I can only do so much.”  
  
“I understand.”  
 _  
‘Please, do not talk to me like this. If this is apart of Kira’s plan it is a very wicked plan. Should this reveal false I will see to it that you face a harsh conviction for trying to destroy me like this.'_ L vows, forcing himself to collapse for Light, resting a hand on a perfectly sculpted jawline, staring up into deep, loving eyes. _‘I do love you. I can never say this to you. It’s too powerful. I love you more than sex, I love you more than your intellect, I love you. And I fear I cannot get all of you back, Light. I'm afraid of what Kira has already done and will do to you. I need to move past these trivial issues but this is all very new to me. Deductions are harder to apply when it to yourself.’_  
  
An experienced hand cups the nape of L's neck, guiding their mouths together for one another to revel in the exquisite softness melting into rising passion intermingled with an undisclosed melancholy. They knew all to well but elected to indulged naivety. There is no wrongdoings in two people entangled in each other, lapping up starved breaths in a cycle of equation. In no court of law could they be held accountable for the lacking sin of sanctioning the imaginary masks to be freed whenever they are married to their contrived agreement. Too many words were exchanged, the tender breathlessness of roaming hands, clothed groping and teeth knocking together as tongues clash is just what is ordered to balance the precariously lain subterfuge.  
  
Times like this the case does not exist, it is only Light Yagami and L Lawliet, and in every instance it will always be only Light Yagami and L Lawliet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna see what L's dressed in: 
> 
> https://assets.vogue.com/photos/55c650bc08298d8be2153f24/master/pass/gieves-hawkes-006-1366.jpg
> 
> I have two other fic ideas planned, one of which involves divorced L and and Light so I will get my Lawlight wedding fix then, I've abandoned all hope of that dumb marriage idea that started this fic. So why not just...write another??? :D 
> 
> I also have a dark academia AU turned asshole politician AU BS planned too...someone help me ; ; 
> 
> We are watching the Crown and part of me wants dumb royal AU too. I'm disgusting. 
> 
> Anyways, we high key afraid that this was about to get real REAL for Light but the dick talked himself out of it for now, but L isn't stupid, he about to be real stinky in the next chapter. Mikami also might smell bad. I honestly have no idea, most of this fic chapter was supposed to not do any of this but here we are. 
> 
> You guys' comments really butter my biscuit thank you for the encouragement! Sorry this chapter is so late I been busy with work but he a chonky 25 page soupy so I hope that makes up for it <3


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